


Watching You Fall

by Black_Rose_117, remanth



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: M/M, Multi, Post Reichenback, Reichenbach Falls, Sherlock's Death, Three Years Apart, Watching You Fall
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2014-01-22
Packaged: 2017-11-13 11:24:49
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 17
Words: 440,614
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/503010
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Black_Rose_117/pseuds/Black_Rose_117, https://archiveofourown.org/users/remanth/pseuds/remanth
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"Sherlock!" </p><p>John had just watched his best friend jump off St. Bart's and so started the famous three years of seperation. Depression can only begin to explain what not only John feels after this show, but everyone around them as well. </p><p>But what really happened over those three years? In this novel, we find out what Sherlock was truely up to, what bubbled up between Mycroft and Lestrade, and how John cooped with the pain and overwhelming depression. </p><p>This is an Omegle done by myself and the amazing Remanth (deviantart is where you can find us both) Remanth is "you" and I am "Stranger"</p><p>Enjoy<br/>~Blake Moriarty</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The Fall

**Author's Note:**

> The first couple of chapters are sort of slow, seeing we were just getting used to the fact of "there are two people typing this and we have to work off each other," so, please, hang in there with us! It does get a Hell of a lot better :D (and for those of you who love Sex scenes, you'll love the first few chapters :D lolz.) But at any rate, reading these parts are important to understanding the rest of the series, so please, just hold on for the ride :)
> 
> See end for notes :)

You: John dashed forward, dazed from the hit by the bicyclist. He had to get to Sherlock, had to save him somehow.

Stranger: Sherlock laid on the ground, bleeding

You: Babbling somewhat incoherently, John fought his way through the onlookers surrounding his friend. He turned Sherlock onto his back and grabbed for his wrist, trying to find a pulse. "Oh, god, no," he moaned, feeling nothing. "God, no."

Stranger: And still bleeding...

You: John felt someone grab his shoulders as he collapsed, his eyes fixed on Sherlock's bloody face. He was pulled back and paramedics came with a stretcher, bundling Sherlock onto it and bearing his body away.

Stranger: Lestrade walked up to the scene, seeing John, he took hold of him away from the paramedic that was holding him. "John...? What happened? John...?

You: "He's... he's gone," John mumbled, trying to focus on Lestrade's face. "He just... jumped. Said goodbye and jumped."

Stranger: "He's what...?" Lestrade asked, focusing on the tears on John's face. "He what..?"

You: "Sherlock jumped," John sobbed, his knees giving out and hitting the pavement. "He jumped and had no pulse. I felt it, I tried but I couldn't get to him in time. I couldn't save him, couldn't stop him. All I could do was watch..." John continued to mumble, staring at the ground

Stranger: Lestrade wrapped his arms around the sobbing John, holding him so he wouldn't fall more. "God... Not him... God... Why?"

You: "He told me he was... a fake," John said brokenly. "Said everything was true, he made everything up, hired Moriarty. Told me to spread the word. But I don't believe it... I... I can't. He is... -was-.... brilliant."

Stranger: "I know he was... John if he was lying about anything... I believe he lied to you in his final goodbye..." Lestrade felt John whimper.

You: "Why?" John asked. "Why? What would be the point?" John buried his head in Lestrade's shoulder, crying for all he was worth. He still couldn't believe his best friend was gone.

Stranger: "I... Don't know..." Lestrade said, feeling tears welling up in his eyes. "Come on, let's go back to my place ok?"

You: John didn't say anything, just let Lestrade pull him to his feet. His mind was lost in a fog, replaying the last few moments of his and Sherlock's conversation. Seeing the detective's hand stretched out to him.

Stranger: "Come on, my car is just over there..." Lestrade wrapped his arm around the broke John and led him in the general direction.

You: John stumbled with Lestrade, his brain finally shutting down. No thoughts crossed his mind, he just reacted to the directions the DI gave him

Stranger: "God that man... Let him rest in peace..." Lestrade muttered.

You: John sat down in the seat, his head resting against the window. "Sherlock, why?" John whispered to his reflection. "I have to believe you were lying, no one could fake that cleverness.... Why?"

Stranger: Lestrade settled into the drivers seat with a groan and looked at John, who was staring sadly at himself in the window. The man was a wreck, his eyes red and his clothes damp. "John I-" Lestrade said slowly, putting his hand on John's knee.

You: John turned his head slowly to focus on Lestrade, his eyes blank. He waited passively for the DI to speak again

Stranger: Lestrade looked at John's pleading look for comfort. What do you say to a man who is this broken up... "I'm sorry, John..."

Stranger: He finished weakly.

You: Nodding, John turned back to the window, staring at the traffic passing by his window. He knew he was in shock but didn't want to think too hard. When he could feel again, he knew it would -hurt-

Stranger: They arrived at Lestrade's flat, he helped get John's door open and held a hand out to him.

You: John ignored Lestrade's hand and got slowly out of the car. His leg had started hurting on the ride over, probably from being knocked to the ground. He stood next to Lestrade silently, waiting for the DI to lead the way

Stranger: He just looked at John, his weak, broken, hurting form. He could tell his legs would give out any moment. He felt gut wrenching pain at the thought of what John must feel. The shock that Sherlock was dead hasn't hit the DI yet. Probably for the best.

You: Lestrade led John up the stairs to his house, shooting a look at his wife to silence her. The last thing John needed was more people around. John stumbled to a seat on the couch, his head dropping into his hands

Stranger: Lestrade hastily sat next to him and touched his back lightly. Tears started up in his eyes.

You: "He... he's really... gone," John whispered, his fingers gripping hard at his hair. "What do I do now?"

Stranger: "You soldier on John... We all soldier on... Don't you think that's what he would want..."

You: "I don't know," John said. "He said he wanted me to tell everyone he was a fake. But he couldn't have been. Oh, god, I have to call Mycroft. I don't think he's been told yet."

Stranger: "Want me to give you a moment alone?" Lestrade asked, bending down to John.

You: "Yeah," John whispered, the ragged edges of pain creeping up on him. "Please."

Stranger: Lestrade stood and left, closing the door behind him and going to make them some tea.

You: As soon as Lestrade left, John curled into a ball on the couch and howled his grief to the ceiling. All the emotions crashed in on him at once, burying him in an avalanche of pain and fury and sorrow

Stranger: ....beep?

You: John didn't hear the sound from his phone at first until it repeated. He fumbled at his pocket and drew his phone out, looking at the text

Stranger: National emergency. Come at once. -MH

You: Go to hell Mycroft. It doesn't matter. - JW

Stranger: What's going on? -MH

You: The British Gov't doesn't know yet? - JW

Stranger: Know what? I swear Johnny, sometimes you make no sense... -MH

Stranger: Did sherly break up with you? I'll have a stern talk to him later. -MH

You: You're slacking, Mycroft. Sherlock's dead. And don't call me Johnny and we weren't together - JW

Stranger: He's.... What?! -MH

You: Gone. Dead. Jumped from St. Bart's. Now kindly go to hell and leave me alone - JW

Stranger: When were you planning on telling me? Oh god... -MH

You: I'm telling you now. He just died about 20 mins ago - JW

Stranger: Oh god... -MH

Stranger: why? -MH

You: Moriarty. - JW

Stranger: Moriarty? God damn... I'm sorry John... -MH

You: No. Don't tell me that. I don't wanna hear it. Just leave me alone - JW

Stranger: Goodbye then... -MH

You: John let the phone slip from his fingers and laid his head on the arm of the couch. He stared blankly at the wall across from him, his thoughts flickering over his memories of Sherlock

Stranger: Lestrade walked back in with two cups of tea. "You call Mycroft?" He asked, setting a cup next to John.

You: "Texted me," John replied shortly. "He knows." He took the cup of tea and took a deep sip, ignoring the burn of the hot liquid.

Stranger: "Careful John... It's hot." Lestrade said worriedly watching John.

You: "So?" John replied, taking a smaller sip. He set the cup down carefully, the cup rattling against the saucer. He crossed his arms over his chest and went back to studying the wall

Stranger: "John... I know it hurts and all... But you can't just-" John cut him off

You: "You have no idea," John snapped. "I'm the only one who still believes in him. You helped Moriarty tear him down."

Stranger: Lestrade staied quiet, watching John.

You: "The whole world turned against him," John continued, his voice rising. "Just like Sherlock thought they would. He claimed it never hurt, he never felt anything. But he did. I could see it in his eyes."

Stranger: "I- I know... I wish I never... That I..." Lestrade finially broke down and hid his face in his hands.

You: John fell silent, his anger simmering deep in his chest. He knew it was that superior of Lestrade's and Donovan and Anderson. They were the ones he was angry at to hide his true anger at Sher.... -him-.

Stranger: Lestrade continued to cry. He muttered things like "Why him...?" and "Why did I ever do that..?" and "Its all my fault hes gone..."

You: John patted Lestrade's shoulder awkwardly, understanding that the DI was in as much pain as he was. And he had known -him- longer. "Greg, I.... I'm sorry," John muttered

Stranger: "Don't even..." Lestrade sobbed. "It's all my fault... It should have been me... It should have been me..."

You: "No," John replied quietly. "You were following orders you had to. This was all Moriarty's fault. He's the one who should be taking the blame." John felt the blankness and fog fall away. Helping others, those in pain, that was the only thing that would draw him out now

Stranger: "It should have been me, John... We both know it..." Lestrade said again, finally looking up and meeting John's eyes.

You: "It shouldn't have been -anyone-," John said forcibly. "The only one who should have died on that roof was Moriarty. The only thing we can do is nothing."

Stranger: "I know..." Lestrade stood. He looked down at John. "I just can't believe..." He paced over to the fireplace, filling it with wood. "I wish their was though..."

You: "I know," John said, retreating into himself again. Lestrade was better and John couldn't bring himself to believe his own words.

Stranger: "Are you going back to... Are you going to continue to live in 221B?"

You: "I have nowhere else," John mumbled, a sob tearing from his throat. "Though what I'm going to do with his stuff..."

Stranger: Lestrade turned back to John. "What are you going to do with it all? I have a file cabinet I don't use that you can have to..."

You: "Sure, thanks," John sighed, tears trickling down his face. He didn't bother to wipe them away and just stared out the window.

Stranger: Lestrade sat back down next to John and pulled him close as he started to wheep again. Nothing was said as they both sat there, crying over the loss of the detective.

Stranger: --------------------------------

You: "Sherlock, was that really necessary?" Molly asked, tears rolling down her face at the memory of John falling apart

Stranger: Sherlock sat up on the table where he had been lying, coughing roughly into his hand, gasping for air. "Yes... I... I had to...." Sherlock let the hurt he felt slip into his voice just a bit.

You: "Why?" Molly asked, sponging the blood off of Sherlock's face. It hadn't been difficult to grab a bag of blood for transfusions to help the detective fake his death

Stranger: "If I didn't... he would've been killed..." Sherlock said slowly, catching his breath and starting to mess with a towel that lay next to him, sponging it out in his nervious hands. "I can't live without him..."

You: Molly looked into Sherlock's eyes, surprise widening her own. "You can't live without him?" she repeated in a whisper. "You really do care, don't you?"

Stranger: "Of course I bloody care! I-" Sherlock stopped, breaking the connection between his and Molly's eyes. "I-"

You: Molly let the familiar pain ripple through her and concentrated on cleaning the space around them. Bloodstained tissues went into the trash and she asked, "Who would have killed him? Why?"

Stranger: "Moriarty's snipers.." Sherlock muttered barely above a whisper. "Because if I didn't die... that would have killed me..."

Stranger: "And Moriarty knew it..."

You: "Snipers?" Molly asked, fear in her voice. "Where they just after John? And how would they know?"

Stranger: "No, they weren't just after John... they were after..." He cut off, looking down.

You: Molly swallowed audibly, fighting down the terror rising in her chest. "Sherlock?" she asked quietly. "Who else were they watching? Who else is in danger?"

Stranger: "Lestrade.... and Mrs. Hudson... My friends..."

You: "Is that why you jumped?" Molly said suddenly, different facts clicking together in her mind. "That was the price of their safety, wasn't it? Your death."

Stranger: "It was..."

Stranger: sherlock's voice caught and his voice broke on the words.

You: Molly impulsively hugged Sherlock, holding his head on her shoulder. "It'll be all right," she murmured. "Do you need a place to stay, out of sight? I've got a basement..."

Stranger: "Molly... I couldn't... I mean I do but..."

You: Molly cut him off with a wave of her hand. Though how he saw it, she had no idea. Leaning back and tilting his head up, amazed at her own temerity at touching him, Molly said sternly, "You still need help, Sherlock Holmes. Don't be too proud to accept it."

Stranger: Sherlock just stared at Molly for a long moment before nodding. "Thanks..."

You: She nodded back and grabbed an extra white labcoat hanging in the room. "Put this on," she said, handing it to him. "Should help disguise that oh-so-familiar black coat of yours."

You: Molly smirked at him and walked to her locker. She pulled out a slightly rumpled deerstalker hat and tossed it at Sherlock. "That's the best I can do."

Stranger: "You're kidding me..." Sherlock said in slight disgust, looking over the hat "its a bloody ear hat... and why does it have two fronts?!"

You: Molly snickered at him, blushing. She loved the pictures of him in the paper with the hat and went out and bought her own. "Because it does," she shrugged. "You have two choices: wear it and be more disguised or not wear and possibly be recognized."

Stranger: Sherlock groaned and shot her a look as he put it on. "So? How. Do. I. Look?" He growled with hate seeping into his voice.

You: "You look good," Molly said frankly, blushing an even deeper red. "Though you may want to change your hair to disguise yourself more. The black curls are a fairly good giveaway."

Stranger: Sherlock growled again. "Do you. Have. Sizzors?"

You: "Yeah, somewhere," Molly replied, searching the room. She came up with a pair of surgical scissors and brandished them. "Want me to cut your hair?"

Stranger: "Yes... Cut it..." Sherlock paused and ran his hair hand through his hair, taking off the cap. "Cut it... all... off..."

You: Molly bit her lip and stood behind Sherlock, slowly but surely cutting all the glossy black locks off. She stopped when his hair was only a few millimeters long. "Good enough?" she asked, stepping back

Stranger: Sherlock went a mirror in a small washroom, holding only a sink and a mirror, and looked in. He gasped and grabbed the sink for support. "G-God..."

You: "Its a bit of a shock," Molly said quietly from behind him. She dropped the scissors onto a table and waited while Sherlock studied his reflection

Stranger: Slowly he touched the stubs, pulling his hand away almost at once as though they burned.

You: "I... I'm sorry," Molly stuttered, heart skipping at the pain on Sherlock's face. "Are you ready to go now? I think you'll be suitably unrecognizable."

Stranger: Sherlock slipped on the cap, shaking slightly. "y-Yeah... I... I'm ready..."

You: "Right," Molly said briskly, hiding the pain behind her professional face. "Let's go. I can drop by your place later and get some stuff for you." She walked out the door and out to her car, leading a surprisingly quiet Sherlock

Stranger: With one last glance at the unfamiliar face that glared back at him, he follow Molly through the familiar hallways.

You: Neither spoke in the car, though Molly did cast several glances over to Sherlock. She could feel a strange brittleness to him and worried that this whole thing might be more than he could handle.

Stranger: "I want...." Sherlock started, then paused, as if he didn't want to finish....

You: "What?" Molly asked gently, glancing at him again.

Stranger: Sherlock stared at his reflection in the window. "I want... I want John..."

You: "So why not go to him?" Molly asked reasonably. "Moriarty's dead, he's laying in my autopsy room."

Stranger: "If I do... the snipers will kill him for knowing I'm still around..." Sherlock's voice caught in his voice again. "I want John..."

You: "Oh, Sherlock," Molly whispered, her heart breaking for the man next to her. "You just need to make sure everyone's safe. Stop the snipers."

You: *for some reason, in my headcanon, molly is the voice of reason when given some actual not-blushing-and-stuttering-over-Sherlock time hehe*

Stranger: "That could take weeks... months... even Years, Molly! I can't live without him that lo..." Sherlock shook his head.

Stranger: *she really is....*

You: Molly nodded her head and moved her hand to pat Sherlock's knee. She was surprised when he didn't move away. "Time doesn't matter if you're making sure those you care about are safe," Molly said. "And you can always see him without him seeing you. Can't be that hard for a genius like you."

Stranger: "It's not the same..." Sherlock said slowly, taking Molly's hand.

You: "No," Molly agreed. "But its better than nothing. And once you make them safe, you can go back to him."

Stranger: "I know... I plan to.. And..." Sherlock cut off.

You: "What?" Molly asked. Her fingers twined around Sherlock's and squeezed gently. "How can I help?"

Stranger: "Can you... get me a picture of him?" Sherlock asked shyly.

You: "Probably," Molly said thougtfully. "Are there any of him lying around the flat?"

Stranger: "None..." Sherlock said slowly. "I know that makes it harder but... He was never into taking pictures really."

You: "That's all right," Molly replied. "I'm sure I can figure something out. Even if I have to get Greg in on it. I bet John wouldn't say no to a group picture."

Stranger: "I would love one of just him too... if you can manage...?"

You: "Sure," Molly squeezed his hand again and smiled at him. This was a side of the detective she had never seen and, if she was being honest with herself, had to admit she was a little jealous it was John who brought out this side of him.

Stranger: "Thank you..." Sherlock forced a smile. He was quiet for most of the rest of the ride.

You: "You're welcome," Molly said and pulled up outside her flat. She led Sherlock up the stairs and flicked on the lights

Stranger: Sherlock followed her inside and looked around. "This is... cozy.." He looked at the pictures of the family that lined the walls.

You: "Thanks," Molly said, blushing at Sherlock's examination of her flat. She walked into the kitchen asking, "Want some tea?"

Stranger: "Please... Mind if I sit?" Sherlock called back.

You: "Go ahead," Molly called from the kitchen, touched at the politeness. She arranged some cookies on a plate and brought it out on a tray along with the tea. "Sugar?" she offered, holding out the sugar bowl

Stranger: "Thanks.." Sherlock spooned two into the tea and stirred it, taking a cookie along with it.

You: "So what is your plan now?" Molly asked, after taking a sip of her tea. She nibbled on a cookie, watching Sherlock

Stranger: "I honestly have... no idea..." Sherlock said, nibbling at the cookie. "I haven't planned it from here."

You: Molly thought for a few moments, going over the things Sherlock had told her so far. She finished her cookie and cleared her throat. "How many snipers did you say there were?" she asked.

Stranger: "Three, as far as I know... There may be more..." Sherlock said, sipping his tea.

You: "Well, they seem to be the major problem," Molly said thoughtfully. "No more snipers means you can go back to John."

Stranger: "You have no idea how bad I want..." Sherlock looked down at his shoes, still stained slightly in blood. He set his tea and cookie down on a table next to him and stood, pacing the flat.

You: "I kind of do," Molly admitted. "But that doesn't matter. Do you know who the snipers are?"

Stranger: Sherlock was quiet for a minute, pausing just at the right angle to look down at the sidewalk below through the window as to not be seen. "I don't..." He said slowly. "I wish I did... It would make everything go so much faster..."

You: Molly grabbed another cookie and chewed slowly while she thought. "You're going to need more help than just me," she finally said

Stranger: "I need Mycroft... He would know... His people would know, at least. But I can't risk it..." Sherlock started pacing again. "I would text him, but it could be easily interceptd.... I could get a new number, but still, saying my name over a text would be too risky. No, he would have to know the truth and would have to know the number without my name being attacted vertually to it..."

You: "You could use mine," Molly offered.

Stranger: "He would still need to know it's me... Still have to be told..."

You: "So text him to come here," Molly said. "I could offer my condolences to him here. Good pretext."

Stranger: "That may work... Can I see your phone?"

You: Molly handed Sherlock her phone and waited while he quickly typed out the text

Stranger: Sherlock read the text outloud as he typed. "It's Molly, got the number from John. Heard about Sherlock, I was a friend. Could you come to my place, I have some things of his I think you may want." Sherlock finished and looked up at her. "Sound good?"

You: "Yes, it does," Molly said, trying not to think of what it would be like to have -two- Holmes brothers in her flat. "That should bring him here, right? He'd want your stuff?"

Stranger: "I would think so." Sherlock muttered as he pressed send. "I just hope he comes alone..."

You: "If he's anything like you," Molly joked weakly. "He probably will. I can't imagine he'd have much patience for people he considered beneath him."

Stranger: Sherlock chuckled. "So true..."

You: They waited in silence, sipping tea and eating the rest of the cookies. About half an hour later, a firm knock sounded from the door. Molly checked through the peephole and gestured Sherlock over. "That him?" she whispered

Stranger: Sherlock peered through the hole. "yes." He said flatly, steping back and out of the doorway's sight as Molly answered the door

You: "Hello, Mr. Holmes," Molly said formally, stepping back to allow Mycroft into her flat. "Thanks for coming."

Stranger: "Where's this stuff of Sherlock's you claimed to have had? I've failed to hear anything about you from him." Mycroft said as he moved into the flat.

You: "Not really surprising," Molly said, a trace of bitterness in her voice. "I never really counted. But the stuff I have is just through here." She pointed to the doorway Sherlock stood in and waited for Mycroft to turn.

Stranger: As Mycroft's eyes landed on Sherlock, he paused and a heavy atmosphere coated the room. "Evening Mycroft..." Sherlock said slowly as Molly shut the door.

You: "Wh... what?" Mycroft said, his eyes studying Sherlock's face intently. "Sherlock... you're... you're not dead?"

Stranger: "I am not..." Sherlock took a step towards Mycroft, his hands in his deep black coat. "It was all a trick."

You: "What was this, just a game to you?" Mycroft asked angrily, glaring at Sherlock. "You got bored so you decided to fake your own death?"

Stranger: "No, Mycroft... Please, listen to my reasoning-"

You: Mycroft turned away and swept his eyes over Molly's flat looking for a suitable seat. He finally settled down in a leather armchair and gestured imperiously for Sherlock to continue. "Oh, do please," he said, a trace of sarcasm in his voice. "I'm all ears."

Stranger: Sherlock sat down opposite of him and crossed his legs, his hands stapled to his chin. "Moriarty, you see, threatened to kill John if I didn't jump. There were three, at least, snipers out there, aiming their guns at John, Mrs. Hudson, and Lestrade. If I didn't jump and kill myself, they would all die. I faked my death to save them, now I need to stay in hiding until I can figure out some way to cut off the snipers. But see, I need your help..."

You: Mycroft chuckled, interrupting Sherlock. "That's rich," he said. "And why should I help you when I have to force you to help me?"

Stranger: "Because if you don't-" Sherlock growled, leaning dangerously to Mycroft. "Three inocient people will die out there, and I will actually be killed. If not killed, then I will kill myself, because without those people, I am nothing. Are you going to help. Or. Not?"

You: Mycroft's eyes widened at the anger in Sherlock's voice. He raised his hands consolingly and said, "Yes, I will help. Dear, dear, has the little army doctor gotten to you?"

Stranger: "Maybe he has, what is it to you?" Sherlock leaned back, the dangerous glint still settled in his eyes.

You: "Just worried about you, brother dear," Mycroft said smoothly. "Now, how can I help?"

Stranger: Sherlock snorted at the comment but continued. "Your people can figure out who the snipers are, how many, and where they are, am I mistaken?"

You: "Yeeees," Mycroft said, drawing the word out thoughtfully. "But it may take time. How much time are you willing to devote to this?"

Stranger: "As little as possible-" Sherlock cut off and took a deep breath. "But I will wait as long as it's need to ensure the safety of us all..."

You: Mycroft nodded and pulled out his phone. He sent a quick text to Anthea, describing what he wanted done. "There," he said satisfied. "My people are on it. Until then, what are you going to do?"

Stranger: "I need to stay low... undercover until I can get a sniper in sight and figure out how to take him out..." Sherlock said, looking away from Mycroft and over to Molly, who hadn't moved. "I'll need a place to stay as well..." He turned back to Mycroft. "I don't want to be a burden."

You: "I told you, you could stay here," Molly interrupted before Mycroft could speak. "The basement is finished and you can stay down there."

Stranger: "Are you sure? This could be a few... years... opperation..." Sherlock swallowed hard.

You: "I'm sure," Molly said, nodding decisively. "Besides, you'll be able to keep a better eye on John if you were close."

Stranger: Sherlock paused. John... "Thank you Molly. And Mycroft, can you keep an eye on him? I worry he's going to do something... regretful..."

You: Mycroft nodded, his eyes softening slightly. Whatever anyone else might think, he truly did care for his brother. "You might want to check out the assassins that moved in near your flat," Mycroft said, standing. "If I were Moriarty, I would move them there for insurance. You may find the first sniper there."

Stranger: "Sounds like a good start." Sherlock said, standing as well. "the question is how..."

You: "You've got a good disguise started," Mycroft said. "I would try to change your gait and definitely your clothes. If you can wander around incognito, that should help."

Stranger: "That should be a good start... Thank you, Mycroft..." Sherlock held out his hand a little awkwardly to his brother.

You: Smiling, Mycroft shook Sherlock's hand and pulled him into an awkward hug. "I'm glad to know you're alive," he said, before stepping away and opening the door. "Be careful."

Stranger: Sherlock just nodded as Mycroft left, a little taken aback by the hug.

You: "Are you ok?" Molly asked quietly after Mycroft had left. Sherlock had been staring at the door, a slightly blank look on his face

Stranger: "fine..." Sherlock cleared his throat, turning to her.

You: "So what now?" she asked nervously

Stranger: "First... Im going to need to change my clothes into something not... me... Then I'm going to go check out the flat..." Sherlock said, starting towards the window.

You: Molly motioned for Sherlock to wait and dashed into her bedroom. She grabbed a few things from the bottom drawer of her dresser and handed them to Sherlock when she walked back out. "Old boyfriends' stuff," she explained. "I hope it'll do until we can get more for you."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and took them from here. "Thanks." He said looking over the clothing. "this should do until I can go out and shop for more."

Stranger: ------end of chapter 1--------


	2. Comfort of a Friend

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John's depression becomes threatening, and Lestrade makes a new friend :)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> see the end :)

You: John limped up the stairs to the flat, trailed by Lestrade. The DI knew this was going to be one of the more difficult parts of dealing with Sherlock's death. "You didn't have to come," John said quietly. "I could have come on my own."

Stranger: "I'm not leaving you to deal with the pain by yourself..." Lestrade said slowly, placing a hand on John's shoulder.

You: "Thanks," John said, nodding. He took a deep breath and pushed the door open. Sights and smells assaulted him, memories crowding his mind.

Stranger: Lestrade watched John for any signs of pain. He was worried from all the memories he knew this place was sure to be crowed with.

You: John looked around the living room, idly noting that Sherlock's dressing gown was still draped over the back of the couch. The violin sat on his armchair, the bow lying lengthwise across the seat. He glanced into the kitchen and saw the remains of Sherlock's last experiment with severed fingers. A choking, sobbing laugh clawed its way out of John's throat

Stranger: "John?" Lestrade asked carefully, watching John sway a little on his feet.

You: "He's still here," John whispered, his knees giving way. "The sense of him, the energy, its all still here."

Stranger: "John..." Lestrade bent down next to him, grabbing him so he wouldn't fall farther. "It's ok, we can leave if you want to..."

You: John clung to Lestrade's arm, tears clouding his eyes. "No...," he moaned. "Can't... leave him. What's the point without him?"

Stranger: "John, don't talk like that..." Lestrade said, clinging onto him tighter. "Sherlock would want you to go on..."

You: "Yeah, I know," John replied. "I'm not... getting rid of any of his stuff. If... if this is all a nightmare... or a mistake.... he'd hate to come back and see everything gone."

Stranger: "He's not coming back John..." Lestrade said sadly. "It's impossible..."

You: "-He's- impossible," John asserted. "If anyone could, he could. And it's my flat now."

Stranger: "Then keep his stuff, John... Just don't... bring your hopes up..." Lestrade finished lamely.

You: "Thanks," John said, swiping a hand across his eyes. "I think I'm ok now. You don't need to stay with me."

Stranger: "How about we go to dinner? Or I go grab us something? I don't want to leave you alone just yet, John... I'm worried..."

You: John nodded absently, looking around the flat again. He was trying to absorb as much of Sherlock's presence as he could before it inevitably faded. He looked at the door to the detective's bedroom and decided to wait. He couldn't face that, not yet.

Stranger: "Want to come? Or do you want me to pick us something up?" The DI asked, watching John from the doorway.

You: "Whatever you want," John replied. He wandered into the kitchen and stared at the experiment, remembering the argument he had had with Sherlock over it

Stranger: "I'll go pick something up. Chinese?"

You: "Ok," John replied. He really couldn't care less at the moment. He wasn't even really hungry

Stranger: "I'll be back in about ten minutes then... Call me if you need anything..." The DI called, opening the door. "Stay out of trouble, okay?"

You: "Right," John called, nudging a burned finger. -Sherlock, what are you doing?.... Experiment John. Need to see how fast flesh burns. ..... On our table?- The argument rolled through his mind and John smiled bitterly at the memory of Sherlock's voice

Stranger: The door shut behind the DI, leaving the flat dead quiet.

You: John walked back into the living room and settled into his armchair. He stared at the skull on the mantel. "Alone again," he murmured to it. "Guess you're mine now, too, huh?"

Stranger: Lestrade checked his phone while he was waiting at a red light. He had an uneasy ping in his gut that John was going to do something stupid to try to ease the pain. Why wouldn't this light hurry up..?

You: John continued talking to the skull, his mind running through all the things of Sherlock's that were now his. Suddenly, his thoughts alighted on one thing that might make this more bearable. Rising quickly, John searched underneath the skull to find Sherlock's secret stash of cocaine and needles. Should he?

You: John fidgeted with the needles, trying to decide if this was something he really wanted to do. He'd never tried drugs before though he was very familiar with what they did to the body. A glance at the blue dressing gown decided him as a fresh wave of pain rippled over him. Sticking the needle into the bottle, he pulled what he thought was a good amount from the cloudy liquid and injected it quickly into his arm.

Stranger: Lestrade had the dinner in the seat next to him and parked his car right outside the flat. He sat back for a moment and sighed, looking sideways at the door labled 221B. The street seemed too empty knowing there was no Sherlock up there, shooting holes in the wall or feverishly working on a case. It killed him inside, but he had to stay strong for John's sake. He groaned as he got out of the car and collected the dinner.

You: John's head fell back against his armchair and the needle slipped from his fingers to land on the carpet. A warm flush crept across his body and he felt like he was flying

Stranger: Lestrade took a couple minutes to balance the containers in one hand, going up and knocking on the locked door.

You: Ignoring the knock, John mumbled something unintelligible at the skull and giggled in a high pitched voice. His fingers danced in the air in uncontrolled, jerky movements.

Stranger: The door finally opened as Mrs. Hudson opened it. "Hello dear," She said stepping back. "Hi Mrs. Hudson." Lestrade said back with a forced smile as he started up the stairs.

You: "Take care of him," she said forlornly at Lestrade's back. "He needs a friend right now."

Stranger: "I will, not to worry." Lestrade called back down the stairs as he reached the unlocked flat door. He tryied to balance the containers in one hand again.

You: John felt the flush deepen almost to a burn on his skin and a rainbow of colors flooded his vision. His mouth suddenly went dry as the colors speared into his eyes

Stranger: "John?!" Lestrade had opened the doors to see John, head back, eyes closing, in his chair. He droped the food and rushed over to him, picking up the needle. "God no... God no..." Lestrade whispered despretly, looking John over carefully.

You: " 'Lo," John mumbled at Lestrade, trying to grin at the DI. The colors had finally stopped attacking him and now were dancing a waltz at the corners of his vision

Stranger: "God... John.... I'm calling help... You overdosed... I can tell... God damn it, Joh, -this- is what I meant by stupid!" Lestrade pulled out his phone and quickly dialed 999.

You: John shrugged and giggled, his eyes drawn back up to the skull. The jaw was flapping slowly up and down and he stared at it, trying to understand what the skull was saying

Stranger: "221B Baker Street. Please, hurry! My friend has overdosed." Lestrade said, panic filling him. He closed the phone and grabbed John's hand. "God John... Not you too... You're not leaving me too!"

You: "Not going anywhere," John singsonged, fully in the grip of the drugs. "Just flying in my armchair, dancing with the colors."

Stranger: "God, you bloody idiot!" Lestrade yelled. "What in bloody hell were you thinking?!"

You: John shrugged again and grinned, his eyes flicking around the room. His fingers continued to move jerkily, not able to stop moving

Stranger: Lestrade could hear sirrens in the distance and looked back at John, who's eyes were closing. "No!" Lestrade yelled, slapping John just enough across the face. "You're not falling asleep! You're not dying on me!"

You: "Tired," John mumbled, his eyes feeling heavily weighted. He let them close and drifted, his mind conjuring random landscape scenes

Stranger: "No you're not!" Lestrade paniced again and slapped him, harder, across the face. "You bloody idiot! Stay awake!"

You: John grimaced at the flashes of pain across his face and opened his eyes to see a panicked Lestrade staring down at him. The sound of sirens flared in his ears and John felt tears prickle his eyes.

Stranger: "You're going to be fine, John. Just don't. Fall. Asleep."

You: "So tired, Greg," John said again. "What is going on? Why are there sirens?"

Stranger: "You bloody overdosed! I need to get you to a hospital... I'm not loosing you too, John... I'm not..." Lestrade broke down a little, tears threatening to overtake him.

You: "Oh," John replied in a small voice. "I... didn't mean to. Wanted to get rid of the pain."

Stranger: "I know..." Lestrade felt the tears claiming him. "Don't worry.... you're... you're going to be... just fine..."

You: "Ok," John answered. The high from the cocaine was wearing off and now he just felt scared and vulnerable and very, very cold. "Freezing, isn't it?"

Stranger: "No..." Lestrade started to panic. this was never a good sign.

Stranger: Sherlock stood outside the flat he knew John was in. He looked up at the window sadly. A leap of panic hit him as he saw the sirens he heard in the distance pull up to the flat and paramedics went running up to the flat. John's flat.

You: John and Lestrade both stared at the paramedics as they burst in the door. The DI was gently but firmly shoved away and they went to work on John, trying to save him from the drug he had injected into himself.

Stranger: Sherlock stood there paralized, knowing he couldn't run to help John. He stood there, staring at the door the paramedics had rushed into to. His heart was pounding heavily against his chest.

You: John saw blackness creeping in on his vision and he tried to focus on the paramedic's questions. He knew he mumbled things, but the answers made no sense to his addled mind. A pinprick in his arm was the last thing he felt before the dark claimed him

Stranger: Sherlock gasped as he saw a motionless John on the strecher, being rushed to the truck. Lestrade followed them out and jumped in his car to go to the hospital with them. "What happened?!" Sherlock grabbed a parametic rushing behind the rest. "Overdose" was all the paramedic called out before jumping in the car and driving, sirens blarring, quickly down the street to the hospitial. Sherlock turned and ran back to Molly's.

You: Lestrade raced after the ambulance, worry making him grip the wheel until his knuckles were white. He parked frantically, not even noticing he had taken a doctor's slot, and ran inside. He barked questions at the nearest nurse and was directed to sit outside the room the doctor's had John in

Stranger: Sherlock burst into Molly's flat, calling to her to get Mycroft on the phone as he stubbled around to find her. He had to know John was ok.

You: Several minutes later, a tired-looking doctor walked out of John's room and up to Lestrade. "Is he alive?" the DI asked quietly

Stranger: "We just got him here in time... He's alive, but not awake. You may visit, just don't bother him too much, he's going to have a massive headache.

Stranger: "

You: "Thank you," Lestrade said before pulling himself to his feet. He walked into John's room and was shocked at how pale the doctor was. He sat down in the chair next to the bed and spent the next few minutes telling John how much of an idiot he was and that he needed to live through this.

Stranger: Sherlock grabbed the ringing phone from Molly. It rang three times before Mycroft picked up.

You: "What is it, Molly?" Mycroft asked disinterestedly through the speaker

Stranger: "Mycroft, John's in the hospital! Please, go check up on him. Text me. Tell me he's ok! Please..." Sherlock said in a panic, his heart still racing.

You: "He's in the hospital? Why? What happened?" Mycroft asked, his tone sharpening at the panic in his brother's voice.

Stranger: "The idiot overdosed... Please... Tell me you're going now..." Sherlock did everything but beg that last bit. He was chewing at his lip in nerves.

You: "All right," Mycroft replied, standing from his comfortable chair. "What hospital did they take him to?"

Stranger: "Bart's of course..." Sherlock mentally hit himself. Bart's... the place he just faked his death.. God that had to kill John in itself.

You: "I'm on my way," Mycroft said. "Don't do anything rash, Sherlock. Keep to your disguise." Mycroft called for his car and drove to St. Bart's. He used his name to bully his way into John's room and paused as he saw Lestrade sitting next to the bed.

Stranger: "Mycroft?" Lestrade stood from his chair, turning to him in surprise. "What are you doing here?"

You: "I was added as John's emergency contact as soon as I heard Sherlock had died," Mycroft lied smoothly. "They called me once they stabilized him. How is he?"

Stranger: "Not well... Better, but not awake..." Lestrade said walking up to Mycroft and looking back at John.

You: Mycroft smiled at Lestrade and stepped close to him, his shoulder almost brushing the other man's. He let his eyes roam over the DI's shoulders and back appreciatively. "Do they know when he will wake up?" Mycroft asked

Stranger: "No..." Lestrade said slowly, his body heating at the closeness Mycroft had to him. "They say it could be a couple hours, or a couple days..."

You: "Well, sitting here watching him won't bring him any closer to consciousness," Mycroft said decisively. "You look exhausted and hungry. Why don't we get something to eat and then check on him again?"

Stranger: "Are you sure? I mean... leaving him in this state...?" Lestrade croaked.

You: "Yes, it won't hurt him and may hurt you," Mycroft replied. Surrendering to an impulse, he put one arm over Lestrade's shoulders and drew him out of the room.

Stranger: "I don't know... I don't have much money and I-"

You: "Don't worry about it," Mycroft interrupted him, smiling gently. "It's my treat if that makes you feel better."

Stranger: "I couldn't let you pay... It wouldn't feel right... I mean...." Lestrade fulttered, feeling himself go red.

You: "Then think of it as a thank you for taking care of John," Mycroft said smoothly. "Sherlock cared for him very much." Remembering, Mycroft typed a quick text to Sherlock, telling him John was alive.

Stranger: "Still... I couldn't..." Lestrade tried to hide his blush

You: "Greg, stop arguing with me and come eat," Mycroft said sternly, softening it with a smile. "What sounds good to you?"

Stranger: "I-I don't know... Um... what do you want?" Lestrade asked, stuttering.

You: Mycroft chuckled to himself at Lestrade's reaction. He had watched the inspector since Sherlock started working cases with him and had finally decided to ask him out. "How about Thai? There's a wonderful place near the Thames I like to go to."

Stranger: "Sounds... Sounds good." Lestrade smiled sheepishly.

You: Mycroft led Lestrade out to his black car and they settled into the backseat. Mycroft shifted slightly so that his thigh brushed against the other man's. "I'm sure you'll love it," he said, making conversation. "It's a little place I discovered a few years ago."

Stranger: "I-I'm sure... I mean..." Lestrade shifted slightly when he felt Mycroft's hip on his.

You: Mycroft smiled into Lestrade's eyes and leaned closer. "One of my favorite restaurants actually," he continued. "I try to visit at least once a month"

Stranger: "Um... uh, Mycroft?" Lestrade said softly, his eyes going soft slightly.

You: "Yes, Greg?" Mycroft said quietly, his eyes tracing the inspector's face

Stranger: "Wh-what are you..?" Lestrade muttered, looking deeply into Mycroft's eyes.

You: "What am I what?" Mycroft asked, drawing out the moment. Lestrade was cute stuttering and red-faced

Stranger: "Doing?" Lestrade whispered.

You: "Trying to show my interest in you," Mycroft whispered back. He rested a hand gently on Lestrade's knee and waited while the DI sorted his emotions

Stranger: "God.... Mycroft you...?" Lestrade inched closer slightly, brushing his hip against Mycrofts again.

You: The elder Holmes just tilted his head in question, his body heating as Lestrade moved closer to him

Stranger: "Mycroft... I..." Lestrade couldn't form a straight sentence, his mind was racing and nothing made sense to him.

You: "Full sentences, Greg," Mycroft chided gently, squeezing his knee. "I'm not a mind reader."

Stranger: "I... and... God, just... Kiss me, Mycroft..." Lestrade could only choke out.

You: Mycroft grinned widely and leaned forward, brushing his lips gently over Lestrade's. His hand stroked a few inches up Lestrade's leg and back down to his knee

Stranger: "Mhmmm..." Lestrade moaned, into his mouth.

You: Mycroft took that as permission to take the kiss deeper, licking into Lestrade's mouth. He didn't move his hands anymore than he already was; he didn't want to spook the inspector

Stranger: Lestrade put his hand onto Mycroft's thigh, bending into the kiss even more.

You: Mycroft hummed into Lestrade's mouth, happy that he was getting into the kiss. Without breaking the kiss, he gently wrapped an arm around Lestrade's waist and pulled him closer

Stranger: "God Mycroft..." Lestrade moaned. "He ran his hand up Mycroft's thigh.

You: Mycroft chuckled as they broke the kiss and said, "You know, I really am glad that my cars have blacked out windows." He pressed a quick kiss to Lestrade's mouth then slid down to suck at the artery running below his neck.

Stranger: Lestrade gasped at the contact to the tender skin under his jaw.

You: Becoming bolder, Mycroft trailed his hand up Lestrade's thigh, stopping a few inches short of his groin. He rubbed gently at the muscles underneath the fabric

Stranger: "God, Mycroft... God... Can we... after dinner?" Lestrade moaned.

You: "Of course," he answered, removing his hand. Mycroft looked out the window and noted they were almost there. "The restaurant is just around the corner."

Stranger: "God... Kiss me again... Please..." He bent in closer, his face a few inches away from Mycroft's.

You: Mycroft leaned forward again, tracing Lestrade's lips with his tongue. He dipped his tongue it and teased, smiling against the DI's lips

Stranger: Lestrade thread his fingers into Mycoft's hair, deepening the kiss.

You: Mycroft groaned, his hands holding Lestrade tight against him. Regretfully, he broke their kiss and said, "And if we keep doing that, we'll never make it to dinner."

Stranger: "Awwww." Lestrade pretended to pout. "Fine, but after?" He kissed Mycroft's lips quickly.

You: "Whatever you want," he replied, arching an eyebrow at the DI. "If you're responding to me this fast, why did it take you so long after your wife left to do anything?"

Stranger: "Um.. Well, after my wife left, it took a little while to get over her... The pain and the lonelyness... Then I only just got to know you and I... didn't know how to... tell you and... I mean... then Sherlock dyed and... and... and..." Lestrade started fighting back tears.

You: Fighting back the tears in his own eyes, Mycroft draped his arm over Lestrade's shoulders. "It's all right to cry," Mycroft told him quietly. "No one will see here."

Stranger: "God.. why did that bastard have to do that..?" Lestrade leaned into Mycroft's embrace, letting the tears finally break free.

You: "Which one?" Mycroft asked sardonically. "Sherlock or Moriarty?"

Stranger: "Sherlock! Why did he have to die?!" Lestrade sobbed, losing control.

You: Holding him gently, Mycroft shook his head. He wanted to tell Lestrade that Sherlock was alive but he was one of the three targets. And he couldn't lose this man now. "I don't know," Mycroft finally replied. "I don't think anyone ever truly understood my brother. I, and perhaps John, came the closest."

Stranger: "John... was the best thing... for him..." Lestrade sobbed slowly into Mycroft's shoulder. "He... He... Damn it Sherlock! Why did you have to make John so broken?!"

You: "I don't think my brother considered what would happen to John," he said, the words being dragged from his mouth reluctantly. "He was never very good with emotions."

Stranger: "John loved him!" Lestrade shouted angerly. "He bloody loved him! I can tell.... and Sherlock was too stupid to see it..."

You: "They were the only ones who didn't see it," Mycroft said sadly. "We all dropped enough hints." He noticed that the car had pulled into a parking space outside the restaurant but he made no move to leave. Greg needed him now

Stranger: "I just can't..." Lestrade lost control and sobbed into Mycroft's jacket.

You: "I know," he said quietly, rubbing circles on his back. Mycroft finally let his own tears fall, a delayed reaction since he now knew Sherlock was alive. He had felt so... frozen when John had told him.

Stranger: Lestrade backed away when Mycroft's phone started ringing.

You: Glancing at the caller ID, Mycroft swore quietly. He looked into Lestrade's eyes and asked, "Can I take this privately? Its classified."

Stranger: "Um... Sure... I'll... I'll meet you in the restaurant." Lestrade opened the door to get out.

You: "Thank you," Mycroft smiled at him before the door closed. He flipped open his phone and snapped, "Yes, Sherlock?"

Stranger: "How's John?! Is he ok?! How does he look?! Anything serious?!" Sherlock's voice was rapid and paniced.

You: "He is alive but unconscious," Mycroft replied. "The doctors said it may be a while before he wakes up, though."

Stranger: "Are you there now? Is Lestrade there? How is he?"

You: "We are not there right now," he answered. "When we left, John was in the hospital bed and he was fine. He probably hasn't even woken up yet. If you're worried, you can always send Molly."

Stranger: "Where are you?! Why did you leave? Is Lestrade ok?!" Sherlock's voice was so worried, Mycroft never heard him like this

You: "Calm down," Mycroft answered. "Lestrade is fine, he was exhausted and hungry. I convinced him to get something to eat before he collapsed. And the food in the hospital is not worth mentioning."

Stranger: "Will you text me when your back at the hospital? Keep me updated?" Sherlock asked nervously. "Molly wants to know if you want to come to tea later as well?"

You: Mycroft sighed. There went his romantic night with Greg. "Yes, I will. And tell Molly I'll be there around 6." He hung up the phone and stroked the cane of his umbrella. Putting his phone away, he got out of the car to go on his date with the DI.

\------------------------------------------------

Stranger: Sherlock paced the flat, unable to get the image of John being run out of the flat out of his mind. He was scared and angry at himself. Only the first day and John had tried to kill himself... Only the first day and he wanted to run back to John...

You: Molly watched Sherlock pace with worried eyes. She had an idea about what was running through his head and knew going to John would be the worst thing he could do right now. "I could go watch him," she offered, stopping his pacing with a gentle hand on his arm.

Stranger: "Wha?" Sherlock asked, being pulled from his deep thoughts all of a sudden. His hand tightened around his phone.

You: "I'll go watch over him," Molly repeated. "I'll text you every hour and as soon as he wakes up."

Stranger: "Would you?" Sherlock asked hopefully. "Could you maybe send me some pictures? I need to see him..."

You: "Of course," Molly said, smiling at him. "Give me about 20 minutes to get there." Molly squeezed his arm and shrugged into her coat. She waved goodbye and drove to the hospital

Stranger: Sherlock continued to pace the flat. He checked his phone at least every minute, waiting anxiously for Molly's text.

You: Molly was directed to John's room and she choked back a sob as she took in the doctor's appearance. She sent a quick text to Sherlock and snapped a few pictures with her phone.

Stranger: God... He looks... So... Lifeless... -SH

You: But he's breathing. He's alive - MH

Stranger: I know.. But I'm so worried... -SH

You: Molly looked over John with a practiced eye. Many people forgot, since she worked primarily with the dead, but Molly was a doctor too. He should wake soon - MH

Stranger: Are you sure? -SH

You: Yes. He's already tossing and turning on the bed. John's strong, he'll be ok - MH

Stranger: But what if he... Trys again? -SH

You: We'll watch him. Greg and I. Take him out and try to get his mind off things. I'm sure Greg will agree. - MH

Stranger: But what about when your not there? He already got away with it once... -SH

You: We'll figure something out, Sherlock. It'll be ok - MH

Stranger: I'll never be able to stop worrying... I'm sorry... -SH

You: I know. But we will take care of him. You'll be able to come back to him. - MH

Stranger: I know it just kills me though... -SH

You: I have to go. He's starting to wake up and you'll know he'll want to know who I'm talking to. Text you again soon. -MH

Stranger: ok... I just wish you could tell him... Nevermind... -SH

You: Molly smiled gently at John from her seat next to the bed. The doctor tried to focus on her face and failed miserably.

You: "M...Mo...Molly?" John choked out, blinking his eyes rapidly. His entire body hurt and the last several hours were a pained blur in his head.

Stranger: "Hey, John... How are you doing?" Molly forced a smile at the painful doctor.

You: "Hurt," John replied, trying to rub his forehead. His arm lifted a few inches and then dropped back down to the bed. "Where?"

Stranger: "Your at Bert's, John. Do you remember what happened?"

You: "Not really," John said, voice trailing off. "I remember staring... at needles... at the drug.... Then Lestrade yelling at me.... What did I do?"

Stranger: "I think you overdosed. Doesn't that sound familiar?" Molly talked quietly as to not bother John so much.

You: "Sort of," John replied. "I was going for a high... to forget... -him-. Guess I misjudged." A harsh, grating laugh turned into a coughing fit and John felt tears gathering in his eyes again

Stranger: "Oh... Poor guy..." Molly took John's hand in his. "I should text Lestrade... Tell him your up."

You: John nodded at her and closed his eyes. He was exhausted and the pain was not helping.

Stranger: Molly typed a quick message to both Lestrade and Sherlock, still holding John's hand in hers.

\-----------------------------------------------

You: Mycroft arched an eyebrow as Lestrade jumped suddenly in the middle of their conversation

Stranger: "Text..." Lestrade blushed, digging for his phone. He opened it. "It's from Molly... She's at the hospital... John's awake!"

You: "That's good news," Mycroft said, smiling at Lestrade. "Does he remember what happened? Why he did it?"

Stranger: Lestrade typed out the message quickly before turning back to Mycroft. "Thanks again... This is nice."

You: "You're very welcome, Greg," he answered. "Though I do have some bad news. I agreed to have tea with Molly later so we'll have to postpone tonight."

Stranger: "Oh? Well then... I guess... Some other time?" Lestrade said at length, the dissapointment and hear seeping into his voice.

You: "Definitely, how about tomorrow night?" Mycroft answered, running a finger along the back of Lestrade's hand.

Stranger: "You sure you don't have plans?" Lestrade muttered, sipping his water.

You: "Nothing more important than you," he answered, leaning forward to brush his lips across Lestrade's cheek. "Nothing that can't wait."

Stranger: "If you say so... Think Molly would mind if I tagged along?" Lestrade asked.

You: "I don't know," Mycroft said, his mind racing to find a plausible excuse for Greg not to go. Not to possibly see Sherlock. "She mentioned she has some personal items of Sherlock's and wanted to give them to me privately."

Stranger: "Oh..." Again that ping of hurt was back. "Ok then... Tomorrow..."

You: "And we can do whatever you want," Mycroft said, trying to bring the smile back to Greg's face. "And for now, we still have some time. I'm not meeting Molly until 6." He brushed another kiss onto Lestrade's cheek and smiled when the other man blushed.

Stranger: Lestrade's phone beeped again and he looked at it. "Says he doesn't remember anything..." Lestrade read slowly.

You: "He may get it back," Mycroft said. "Sometimes trauma makes us forget the immediate memories."

Stranger: "True.." Lestrade pocketed the phone and poked at his food.

You: "What's the matter, Greg?" Mycroft asked, concern in his voice.

Stranger: "Nothing." Lestrade tried to force a smile.

You: "It's interesting watching you try, but I can tell you're lying. You can talk to me."

Stranger: "No, it's nothing." Lestrade tried to straighten up.

You: Mycroft sighed but let it go, realizing that Lestrade would tell him or not in his own time. Perhaps he didn't trust him all that much yet? "Well, then let's finish this delicious meal?" Mycroft suggested, before spooning up a large bite of rice.

\-------------------------------------

Stranger: Sherlock was pacing again. He listened at his shoes pattered against the ground and as the ground groaned under him. He dug out his phone as it rang and looked at Molly's name on the screen. 'Hes awake.' those two words... Sherlock sighed and sat down on the coach. "Thank god..." he muttered.

You: Molly surreptitiously took another picture of John, sleeping peacefully, and sent it to Sherlock. Looks better now, doesn't he? - MH

Stranger: Much. -Sh

Stranger: Hes so cute when he's sleeping... -SH

You: Yes, he is. I talked to a nurse and she said he should be fine to leave in a few days. - MH

Stranger: I'm so glad.. Thank you, Molly... I owe you so much... -SH

You: It's all right, Sherlock. I care for both of you, you know. - MH

Stranger: I know... God... I miss him... -SH

You: I know. When do you think Mycroft will have more information for you? - MH

Stranger: No idea... He's currently out with Lestrade for dinner. He said yes to tea by the way... 6-ish. -SH

You: Good. We can discuss more when he gets there. The faster we make them safe, the faster you can come back - MH

Stranger: I hope to be with him in the next few weeks... Molly, can you buy some flowers for him for me? I'll pay you back the money -SH

You: Don't worry about paying me back. What kind of flowers? - MH

Stranger: The best you can find. And no, I want to... I want the flowers to be from me... -SH

You: All right. I'll send you a picture when I put them near the bed. - MH. Molly headed to the gift shop and bought two vases full of flowers, one with a lily and carnation bouquet and one with a wildflower bouquet. She had another nurse help her carry them back and snapped a picture of them on the dresser next to John.

Stranger: Perfect. Thank you -SH

You: You're welcome. John's still asleep so I'm going to leave a note and head back. - MH. Molly wrote a quick note and left it near the flowers while also catching the nurse on duty and telling her. Molly drove back to the flat to see Sherlock pacing the room again.

Stranger: "Molly, you sure he's going to be ok?" Sherlock asked, stopping for a moment to look at her, his hands stapled under his chin.

You: "Yes, I am," Molly replied, smiling gently at Sherlock. "He'll live through this and I'll make sure he stays ok."

Stranger: "I don't want him hurting himself... Everything I've done would have been for nothing... All this pain would be for nothing.." Sherlock muttered, pacing across the room to look out the window.

You: "He didn't mean to," Molly explained. "He was looking for a high.... Like you used to.... Wanted to forget the pain and misjudged the dose."

Stranger: "He said that?" Sherlock looked back at Molly, dropping his hands.

You: "Yes," Molly said, standing next to Sherlock and putting a hand hesitantly on his arm. The detective hadn't shrugged her off before; maybe he needed the contact now.

Stranger: "God... Molly, I need to figure out my next move..." Sherlock said at some length, looking at her, concern only slightly hinted in those unreadable eyes.

You: "We'll figure it out when Mycroft gets here," Molly said soothingly. "You know, I was thinking about it on the way over. Wouldn't the snipers on Mrs. Hudson and Greg be someone near to them? Maybe living or working nearby?"

Stranger: "Who knows at this point..? They could be right next to them and I couldn't tell..." Sherlock sighed, sitting down in an armchair near by

You: Molly lets Sherlock sit in silence, knowing anything she says now could be countered. She bustles around the flat, making tea and cleaning. A knock at the door interrupts her and she opens it to admit Mycroft

Stranger: "Evening Molly. Sherlock." Mycroft nodded as he walked briskly into the flat.

You: "Hello," Molly replies, gesturing the older Holmes brother to sit down. She brings in more tea and cups and brings a plate of cookies.

Stranger: "Did you find anything about the snipers?" Sherlock asked as soon as his brother sat down across from him.

You: Mycroft checks his phone and finds a short file from Anthea. "I've found one," he replies. "That new inspector in Lestrade's department. Pale skin, light brown hair. He's actually an SAS veteran"

Stranger: "God... can you send me a picture?" Sherlock asked, pulling the phone Molly had got him earlier that day out of his pocket.

You: Mycroft types a few buttons on his phone and the picture flashes to Sherlock's phone. He sits back and waits while his brother studies it

Stranger: Sherlock looks over the photo and saves it to the phone. "I'll aim for him tomorrow." Sherlock pocketed the phone and took a tea from the tray, looking Mycroft over quickly. "So, Mycroft, you and Lestrade huh?" Sherlock smirked.

You: "Problem?" Mycroft replied, sidestepping the term 'aim'. For now at least

Stranger: "No, actually. Congrats." Sherlock smirked over his tea before he took a lengthy sip. "In fact, couldn't be happier for you two."

You: "Really?" Mycroft answered. "I'm surprised. Why?"

Stranger: "Because, this way you can look over him. Just be careful, that sniper is after him. One word that I'm alive and that little trigger of his may just slip." Another lengthy sip. "Besides, Lestrade needs someone like you around right now, if, you know, you two are serious. The moments I saw him rushing past to follow John-

Stranger: " Pause. "Well, he didn't look all too happy. He looked depressed and just stressed out... Please, look after him and keep him safe."

You: "I will do that," Mycroft promises. "I actually had to dissuade him from coming with tonight because I didn't want to chance him seeing you." Molly starts and breaks in, "I need to talk to him actually. About John. We need to watch over him, make sure he doesn't accidentally hurt himself again. Or on purpose."

Stranger: "Well, if you do wish to do so, he'll be over at my place tomorrow night, you are welcome to come over for an hour or so." Mycroft turned to her.

You: "I'll do that," Molly said. She fell silent again, nibbling on a cookie as Mycroft turned back to Sherlock. "And what do you mean, "aim"?" Mycroft asked his brother. "Getting arrested for murder would put the lie to your death."

Stranger: "Oh relax." Sherlock said, setting his cup down on the table. "I'll follow him around a little. Get to know his patterns. Then when the time is right, I'll make my move."

You: "It'd be safer to have one of my... minions do it," Mycroft said delicately. Sherlock often made jokes about how he was the British Government, but Mycroft was always careful to not let him know how right he might be.

Stranger: "True... But let me get to understand him a little. Hunt him down and make sure he's the one we're after. If we have a minion-" Sherlock smirked. "-of yours kill the wrong person... we'll... People may talk. Demand what the reasoning behind it was. In the long shot of things, I want to do this as to keep Lestrade as safe as possible, not to mention John and Mrs. Hudson." Sherlock finished, sitting back in his seat.

You: Mycroft nodded and sent a quick text to Anthea. "When will you start tracking him?" Mycroft asked curiously

Stranger: "Text Lestrade and ask him what time that shift of his starts. Obviously the sniper would get the same shift times as Lestrade, so getting to know his shifts will lead us to the sniper's hours as well."

You: "Very well." Mycroft texted Lestrade with a smile on his face. Really, he should have thought of this earlier. What are the hours you're working this week, Greg? - MH

Stranger: Five to Seven Monday through Saturday. Why you ask? -GL

You: So I can make some plans. Don't want to interfere with your work. - MH

Stranger: Does around seven-thirty work for tomorrow night? -GL

You: That's fine with me. Do you mind if Molly meets with us for about an hour? She wants to talk to you about John. - MH

Stranger: Of course not. But only for an hour, the rest of the time you're mine. -GL

You: And that will be my pleasure. See you then. - MH

Stranger: see you -GL

You: Mycroft lowered his phone and said to Molly, "Greg says you're welcome to come over for an hour to talk about John. He's worried about him too. Literally had to drag the man away from the hospital. And Sherlock, he works from 5 to 7 Mondays to Saturdays."

Stranger: "God, that much... Okay then, I'll be there at around four in the morning, watch for the sniper to enter, then hang around until he leaves and try to follow him home." Sherlock shrugged and picked up a cookie, more looking it over then actually eatting it.

You: "He really works that much?" Molly said, shock in her voice. "I understand now the problems he was having with his wife. They must never have really talked about it." Mycroft shrugged and looked disinterested. He couldn't care less about Greg's ex-wife.

Stranger: Sherlock studied Mycroft for a moment before adding in. "Yeah, so make sure you aren't so problem-causing, Mycroft. You hurt him in any way and I swear..."

You: "I cause problems?" Mycroft exclaimed. "What problems would that be? And I would never hurt him intentionally."

Stranger: "Don't hurt him at /all/, intentionally or not. And you know very well you cause problems!" Sherlock looked away and at Molly, who was just standing behind Mycroft, staring at the pair of them.

You: "I do not control everything," Mycroft said evenly. "I will do everything in my power to protect him."

Stranger: "You better..." Sherlock all but growls.

You: "Are we done here?" Mycroft asked. "Because if we are, I had plans that had to be cancelled."

Stranger: "Yes yes, run along to your boyfriend." Sherlock waves a hand uncaringly. "What time should I come over?" Molly piped up, opening the door for Mycroft.

You: "7:30, Molly, though I really do ask that you only stay the hour," Mycroft said, walking out the door. He waved to the two and headed out to his car, pulling out his phone and texting Lestrade. Finished at Molly's. Want to meet? - MH

Stranger: Oh, God yes! -GL

You: Where are you? I'll meet you there - MH

Stranger: I'm at my place. Come on over. -GL

You: On my way. See you in about 15 minutes. - MH. Mycroft gave Lestrade's address to his driver and sat back to watch the streets flow by the window. He stepped out of the car jauntily when it stopped outside Lestrade's home.

Stranger: "Hey there." Lestrade answered the door as Mycroft just knocked on it.

You: "Eager to see me, Greg?" Mycroft asked, stepping smoothly over the step and into the house.

Stranger: "A little." Lestrade chuckled as he shut the door and locked it.

You: Mycroft let his gaze roam the house and was happy to see if was clean and neat. Very much like Lestrade himself. "And what did you have in mind?"

Stranger: Before Lestrade could stop himself, he had Mycroft in his arms, kissing him feverishly, his body heating in every place it touched Mycroft's.

You: In surprise, Mycroft dropped his ever-present umbrella before his arms wrapped around Lestrade's waist. He pulled the man hard against his chest and kissed him deeply

Stranger: "God, Mycroft..." Lestrade moaned into his lips, feeling the tongue trying to push it's way in.

You: "Let me in, Greg," Mycroft whispered back. "I want to taste you."

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled deeply, running his hands into Mycroft's short hair as he felt his tongue pry open his mouth, Lestrade's body was on fire from all the firce contact. All at once, all the heat flowed straight to his crotch, having it throb against his now-too-tight jeans.

You: Mycroft ran his tongue between Lestrade's lips, one hand running up his back to tangle in his hair. He pulled back gently, tipping his head back to take the kiss deeper. He explored the inspector's mouth hungrily, possessively, drinking in every flavor.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned deeply, pressing his hips into Mycroft's without really thinking about what he was going.

You: Mycroft's other hand ran down and cupped Lestrade's hip, pulling him tight against his own hips. He maneuvered the inspector until his back hit the wall and pressed against his body.

Stranger: Lestrade, crotch feeling as though it would explode from all the heat being passed down to it, bit at Mycroft's lower lip, moaning as he did so. Slowly, he reached for Mycroft's shirt buttons before stopping, his fingers tangled around the top one. Was it too fast?

You: Mycroft licked the lip Lestrade had bitten, his breath heaving. He gripped the hand that hovered over his shirt button and looked into the inspector's eyes. "You sure?" he asked.

Stranger: "I don't know... Do you want... to move this fast?" He panted, feeling foolishly out of breath.

You: "I am all right with whatever you are comfortable with," Mycroft replied, leaning forward to brush his lips over Lestrade's.

Stranger: Lestrade undid the top button and looked into Mycroft's eyes teasingly.

You: "Don't stop now," Mycroft breathed. "You feel good."

Stranger: Lestrade kissed Mycroft slowly and feverishly again, undoing each button in a slow, teasing manor.

You: Kissing Lestrade back hungrily, Mycroft moaned into his lips as Lestrade's hands revealed more of his skin. His hands rose and played with the hem of Lestrade's shirt, brushing gently at the skin underneath

Stranger: Lestrade started to peel off the shirt, taking it gently and letting the fabric brush the arms of Mycroft very teasingly as Lestrade pressed his tongue along the line of his lips.

You: Mycroft shrugged his shoulders and let the shirt drop to the floor. He raised his hands again and ran one along the line of Lestrade's jaw. "What next?" he asked teasingly.

Stranger: "Mine." Lestrade moaned in the brief second he allowed their lips to leave each other's.

You: "Of course," Mycroft answered, smiling. He leaned down and left a trail of burning kisses down Lestrade's neck to his collarbone. He bit at the point of his collarbone and left a red mark. "And now mine."

Stranger: "No... Shirt..." Lestrade whispered into Mycroft's ear before taking it in his mouth and tugging gently.

You: Mycroft smirked and slid his hands underneath Lestrade's shirt. He pulled it up and off the inspector and let his hands roam the broad chest.

Stranger: Lestrade lifted his hands above his head to let Mycroft lift the shirt off.

You: Wrapping his arms around Lestrade's waist again, Mycroft dipped his head and trailed his tongue down the inspector's chest.

Stranger: Lestrade hissed in a breath between his teeth as the cold air hit the wet line running down his chest from Mycroft's tongue.

You: "Greg?" Mycroft asked, looking back up at Lestrade's face. He pressed a kiss to his chest and waited, not wanting to move too far.

Stranger: "Yes?" Lestrade asked, a little out of it from the pleasure.

You: "Are you ok? I didn't hurt you, did I?" Mycroft asked, concerned. He stood again and pulled the inspector against his chest, rubbing the muscles of his back

Stranger: "God no... Feels... Bloody amazing..." Lestrade bent and bit into Mycroft's neck.

You: Mycroft moaned and lifted his head, giving Lestrade more access to his neck. He fisted his hands into the small of Lestrade's back

Stranger: "Marks ok?" Lestrade hissed into the hot flesh of Mycroft's neck, nibbling at it.

You: "I left one on you, so feel free to leave them on me," Mycroft panted.

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled at his breathless partner and bites down, sucking, at the tender flesh just above the collar bone.

You: "Oh... my... god, harder please," Mycroft groaned, clutching tightly at the inspector. He had a feeling his fingers were going to leave bruises on the man's back.

Stranger: Lestrade bit harder and sucked as hard as he could, letting his tongue wonder.

You: "That feels amazing," Mycroft said, his voice gravelly. He ran his nails up Lestrade's back, leaving red trails and smiling when the inspector arched into his chest

Stranger: "Jesus!" Lestrade moaned as he reached up to bite Mycroft's ear again.

You: "Not quite," Mycroft laughed darkly, his head tilting to suck and bite at Lestrade's neck.

Stranger: Lestrade felt his knees go week as Mycroft's lips made contact with the delicate flesh.

You: He wrapped an arm around Lestrade's waist to hold him up, pressing him back against the wall. His other hand roamed the man's chest, tweaking the nipples until they stood hard and erect

Stranger: "Please... Mycroft..." Lestrade begged, pleasure being shot straight down to his length.

You: "What do you want Greg?" Mycroft asked, his voice like velvet-wrapped gravel. "Tell me what you want me to do to you."

Stranger: "Please..." Was all Lestrade could manage before his legs completely gave out. It was all too much, he's never felt anything like this.

You: Mycroft sank to the floor with him, unable to support his complete weight. Laying on his side, Mycroft pulled Lestrade against him, kissing his forehead. "Tell me what you want," he whispered.

Stranger: I want to... I want..."

You: "I do not want to push you too far," Mycroft said. "I understand this may be the first time you have kissed another man. Or done anything else with one for that matter. Please, tell me how far you want to go."

Stranger: "I... I want to st... stop..." Lestrade breaths heavily, feeling stupid laying on the floor without even doing anything to the other man.

You: "All right," Mycroft kissed him, just a simple press of lips to lips, before sitting up. He crossed his legs primly underneath him and waited while the inspector brought himself under control.

Stranger: "I'm sorry..." Lestrade said lamely, sitting up and avoiding Mycroft's eyes.

You: "Don't be. I rather enjoyed our time together," Mycroft chuckled, gently fingering the marks the DI had left on his neck. "Though its a good thing I wear my suits buttoned to the neck. Don't really want to shock the older members of the Diogenes club."

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled and kissed Mycroft again, taking it slowly and making it last a good long time.

You: Mycroft cupped the back of Lestrade's head carefully, not pulling him too hard. The kiss was sweet and gentle and more of a declaration of caring than if they had spoken it out loud

Stranger: Lestrade turned his head a little to deepen the fireworks of affection that felt was going between them. He placed a caring hand on Mycroft's knee and leaned in a little more, balancing on his knees.

You: Mycroft held still, hoping Lestrade would come a little further but not wanting to press him. He traced his lips gently with his tongue but didn't dip in, just teased him

Stranger: Lestrade pressed his tongue gently back, wanting to taste Mycroft's mouth. As Mycroft opened his lips slightly, Lestrade slid in, feeling around Mycroft's tongue slowly, gently, softly.

You: Mycroft let Lestrade explore his mouth, running a finger gently over the back of the hand resting on his knee. This learning, this... tasting was killing him and he loved it

Stranger: Regratfully, Lestrade pulled away, looking sick with depression. He met Mycroft's eyes slowly. "Is this what Sherlock would have wanted?" The words came in no more then a whisper. What brought this question up, Lestrade didn't even know. He just felt sick at the feeling of Sherlock.

You: "What do you mean?" Mycroft asked quietly, his heart hammering in his chest. Where did this come from? Did he know? How could he possibly know?

Stranger: "What would Sherlock say if he could see us? Like this, I mean..." The words trailed off, his voice failing him. Lestrade felt fire-hot tears burning in the back of his eyes. His breath was shuttery. "I just mean... I don't know... If he was alive and.... saw us and... together, I mean..." His voice failed him again and he looked down in dispair.

You: "I think he would be amused," Mycroft finally said. He took a deep breath and felt relief course through him. Greg didn't know. "I knew my brother and he would have laughed to see me in a relationship."

Stranger: "You say that as if you've never been in one..." Lestrade answered, looking in Mycroft's eyes with his damp ones.

You: "I have before," Mycroft answered, meeting Lestrade's eyes for a few moments then looking away. "They... did not end well. I made... mistakes."

Stranger: "You did?" Lestrade asked, whipping away a stray tear that rolled down his cheek. "What happened, if you don't mind my asking."

You: "I chose people who were... difficult," Mycroft said, the words being dragged from his mouth. "We did not... work well together. I let my emotions overrule my head. I swore to myself all those years ago I wouldn't get in another relationship. Then I met you."

Stranger: "Oh, Mycroft... I promise... We'll make things work..." Lestrade scooted closer to Mycroft.

You: "I know, Greg," Mycroft said, a small smile alighting on his lips. "And if we do not, I would hope we separate better than those relationships in the past."

Stranger: "No, if something happens between us, I'm not letting it fall apart. I'm done with fake lovers and wife's who leave me for better people... I want a real relationship that works and I want it to be with you, Mycroft." Lestrade took Mycroft's hand in his and squeezed it tightly.

You: Mycroft's smile grew wider and he intertwined his fingers with Lestrade's. "Sounds like what I want as well."

Stranger: "I'm so glad..." Lestrade beamed and leaned in to kiss Mycroft on the cheek.

You: "So, do you want to get off the floor now?" Mycroft chuckled. "Perhaps a couch would be more comfortable to talk on?"

Stranger: Lestrade blushed. "I think that's a... Smart idea..." Lestrade stood and helped Mycroft to his feet.

You: Mycroft kissed Lestrade on the cheek before gesturing him to lead the way to the couch.

Stranger: Lestrade had Mycroft sit on the couch, looking down at him. "I think I'm going to make some tea, want some?"

You: "Yes, thank you," Mycroft said. As Lestrade walked out, Mycroft studied the room and saw many pictures missing from frames. No longer wanted to see his ex-wife? Mycroft wondered.

Stranger: Lestrade hurried around his small kitchen of a stove top, a microwave, and a fridge. He went about making the tea and putting sugar and milk and things on a plater before placing the kettle and two cups on the platter as well. 

You: Mycroft watched Lestrade walk back in balancing the tray and stood to help him with the things he carried in his arms. "You could have asked for help, you know," he chided him gently

Stranger: "I'm fine hun." Lestrade chuckled as Mycroft took a few of the items. "But thank you."

You: "Hun?" Mycroft rolls the word around his mouth, deciding he liked it. "And you're welcome."

Stranger: "Yes, Hun." Lestrade said, setting the tray down and leaning over to peck Mycroft on the lips. "I'm figuring were together now and all, so why not? Unless, I am mistaken?"

You: "No you're not mistaken," Mycroft reassured him. "Pet names are just something I'm not very familiar with. But I like it." He leaned forward and pours tea for both of them, handing the first cup to Lestrade.

Stranger: "Thank you." Lestrade smiled as he took the cup and started adding things to his drink. "Well, then, I'm glad you like it, Hun."

You: Mycroft patted his hand and added milk and sugar to his own tea before settling back against the couch cushions. "So, I would like to learn more about you. Where do you want to start?"

Stranger: "Why don't you ask me some questions? I am an open book." Lestrade smiled, stirring his tea half-heartedly and leaning back as well.

You: "What made you decide to become an inspector?" Mycroft started, taking a sip of his tea

Stranger: "I don't know, really." Lestrade shrugged. "I was always interested in murder mysteries on the telly. Always love puzzles and looking for clues. I guess after about, 9th grade I figured I wanted to work in crime investigation." Lestrade sipped his tea.

You: "Sounds very much like Sherlock was," Mycroft said sadly. "Though he wanted to be a pirate when he was younger. Anything you want to ask me?"

Stranger: "Yeah. What is it that got you into wanting to work in the British Government?"

You: "I enjoy power," Mycroft said simply. "I enjoy pulling strings and watching people carry out my orders. Plus, I do good work there. My turn. When was your first relationship?"

Stranger: "First relationship... Was back in High School my senior year with Haily Reinheart. Worst relationship ever too... Gosh..." Lestrade shook his head.

You: "What happened?" Mycroft asked curiously.

Stranger: "She basically made a fool out of me in front of the entire class... Used me to get her ex ferrous then broke up with me very harshly..." Lestrade said, frowning and looking down into his tea as the memory clouded his mind. "It was the worst..."

You: "I'm sorry, Greg," Mycroft said, taking his hand in his. "If you like, I can make her life hell now."

Stranger: Lestrade just laughed. "No, no, it's alright. I'm pretty sure I heard somewhere she died in a car crash or something."

You: "Your turn," Mycroft chuckled, keeping hold of Lestrade's hand.

Stranger: "Ok... Are you a vergin?" Lestrade squeezed his hand gently, sipping his tea.

You: "No I am not," Mycroft replied, his head tilting to the side slightly. "Why?"

Stranger: "Wondering. When did you lose it?"

You: "I was 20, about halfway through university," Mycroft replied. "Erica Bennett."

Stranger: "That's nice then. At least you had some fun." Lestrade smiled half-heartedly.

You: "Yes, but not for long," Mycroft replied, his eyes clouding in memories. "She was the first relationship that ended badly. How about you? When did you lose yours?"

Stranger: "Oh... I um... Lost it when I was 12..." Lestrade said, avoiding Mycroft's eyes in embarrassment. "I was drunk... I don't even remember who it was or where..."

Stranger: Lestrade pulled his hand out of Mycroft's, looking away.

You: Mycroft gently laid his hand on Lestrade's knee and waited until he looked at him. "Mistakes that you learn from should not shame you," he said quietly. "And I am not judging you."

Stranger: Lestrade let a slight smile play his lips. "I'm glad... Thank you... Anything else you want to ask?"

You: "I believe its your turn," Mycroft said, smiling back.

Stranger: "Ok, I do have one final question for you, Mycroft." Lestrade smiled shyly.

You: Mycroft waited in silence, enjoying the light that shone in Lestrade's eyes.

Stranger: "Would you, maybe, like to spend the night?" Lestrade asked, retaking Mycroft's hand in his.

You: "Yes, if that's what you want," Mycroft replied, leaning forward to press his lips against Lestrade's cheek.

Stranger: "Is that what you want though?" Lestrade asked, sounding taken aback a little.

You: "Yes, I wouldn't have agreed if I didn't want it," Mycroft chuckled, touched by the inspector's self-consciousness

Stranger: Lestrade grinning then kissed Mycroft on the lips slowly.

You: "It's getting late," Mycroft said, breaking their kiss. "And as its Tuesday tomorrow, you work early. Do you want me to sleep on the couch?"

Stranger: "Or you could... Come... Sleep in my room..." Lestrade said hastily. "Unless if that's moving too fast, of course."

You: "I would like to if you are comfortable with it," Mycroft said, rising. He placed his tea cup on the tray and drew Lestrade up beside him.

Stranger: "I think we can give it a shot." Lestrade smiled

You: Mycroft followed as Lestrade led the way into the bedroom. He took off his suit jacket and waited while the other man fidgeted a bit.

Stranger: After a while and they both were comfortable in bed, Lestrade wrapped a single arm around Mycroft's middle. "Is this ok?" Lestrade asked with a yawn.

You: "Fine," Mycroft replied, pulling Lestrade to lay with his head on his shoulder. "Good night."

Stranger: "Good night." Lestrade kissed the back of his head and closed his eyes, falling asleep almost instantly.

\-----------------end chapter 2-----------------------  
  

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!
> 
> Comments are love! :D


	3. First Time

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sherlock stalks and Mycroft and Lestrade get wet X)

Stranger: Sherlock stood outside the tall build where he knew the DI would be checking in in just a matter of minutes. The sky was dark and threatening to dampen the mood even more so as Sherlock stood there, waiting for his target. He had arrived an hour early, to make sure he didn't miss the sniper. But so far, none of the day shift has shown, and no sign of the sniper.

You: Lestrade yawned and rubbed a hand over his face as he walked up to the building. This shift was going to kill him, he felt it. Luckily, he was only stuck on it for another year. He saw a stranger loitering near the benches and dismissed him. Probably a rookie out for a smoke. He saw the newest member of his department walking behind him and waved genially to him. "Hey, Eric, crappy morning, eh?"

Stranger: "Mornin' boss. Yeah, really is. Think it'll blow over soon?" Eric asked, looking out the window and sipping his coffee, trying to act as normal as possible.

You: "Probably not," Lestrade said, leading the way to the desks. "Any new cases on your desk?"

Stranger: "Haven't checked yet really, just got here and all not a minute before you did. I'll go check and be right back." Eric walked over to his desk, setting down his mug for a moment to flip through a small folder on his desk. He picked up his mug again, staring at the contents of the folder, and started towards the DI's office.

You: A folder sat on Lestrade's desk and he sighed as he sat down. Someone had been killed last night while he was sleeping. A small stole over his face as he remembered Mycroft had been there. He opened the file as Eric wandered in. "What's up?" Lestrade asked

Stranger: "Seems some idiot stabbed his wife. Husband disapeared, not high end or tail of him. You know, the norm." Eric sighed and sat in a chair across Lestrade's desk from him. "You?"

You: "Woman found in a dumpster outside a restaurant. Also stabbed," Lestrade sighed. "Apparently knives are the weapon of choice today. Let me know when Donovan gets in please?"

Stranger: "Course. Want some coffee?" Eric asked, standing in the doorway and nodding towards the empty mug that sat on the DI's desk.

You: "Yes, thanks," Lestrade smiled warmly at the man before he started studying the file in front of him. It was going to be a long day

Stranger: Eric picked up the mug and went to his own desk to deposit the folder. He walked over to the break room and started a new pot of coffee. As it boiled, he pulled a small flask out of his pocket. "It would be so easy to just let it all..." he tilted the closed bottle over the DI's mug. "...slip..." He couldn't hold off the smirk the danced to his face.

You: The owner of the restaurant had found the body, Lestrade discovered. The woman was a chef and had worked there last night. Usually stayed to clean up and was the last to leave. 'Probably one of her coworkers. Or even the owner,' Lestrade thought to himself.

Stranger: "Coffee." Eric said as he steped into the office with the DI's mug in one hand and his own in the other. "And Donovan just arrived. I sent her up, should be here in a minute."

You: "Thanks," Lestrade said again. He sipped the coffee, hissing a little at the heat. "You're free to follow the case on your desk unless I need you later. Have a good day." He smiled and dismissed the man from his mind, thoughts circling back to Mycroft.

Stranger: Sherlock had watched every single person enter the building. Donovan had been the last of them so it seemed, so now he had sat on the bench outside and just watched the people rush in and out, serly on cases. Sherlock whipped out his phone and typed a quick message to Molly. Morning to ya. By chance have you gone to see John yet? -SH

You: Not yet Sherlock. I was sleeping. - MH

Stranger: Did I wake you? -SH

You: Yes, hence I was sleeping. I'll go see John at a more reasonable hour and text you when I do. K? - MH

Stranger: Ok. Sorry... -SH

You: It's all right. I know you're worried. Sorry to snap. What are you doing? - MH

Stranger: Sitting outside in the rain, watching for the sniper. Kind of boring, actually. -SH

You: Sorry. Did you at least bring an umbrella? And have you seen him yet? - MH

Stranger: I saw him enter, yes. And no, no umbrella. Just me and the clothing you gave me. -SH

You: Sherlock, you're going to get sick! What happens if you die from pneumonia? - MH

Stranger: I won't. I'll just tell my body not to. -SH

You: Yeah that'll work. Imagine me snorting in disbelief. Give me a half hour and I'll bring you one then check on John. - MH

Stranger: Thanks. -SH

You: Molly got up and dressed quickly, throwing her hair into a ponytail. She grabbed a piece of toast and two umbrellas and headed out to her car. The drive to the police department went surprisingly quickly at this early hour and she got out to hand the umbrella to Sherlock.

Stranger: "Thank you..." Sherlock said taking the umbrella. Then, a familiar voice sounded behind them. "Molly?!" The DI waved and started over to them.

You: Molly moved away from Sherlock, placing her body between him and the DI. "Hey, Greg, how are you?"

Stranger: "Good, good. Quiet the storm isn't it? Who's your friend?" Lestrade smiled at Sherlock behind Molly.

You: "No one really," Molly replied. "Just had an extra umbrella and thought I'd give it to him. And yes, its pouring out. What are you up to?"

Stranger: "Uh..." Lestrade looked at Molly from the weird comment. "Nothing, really... New case, you know. Poor lady stabbed to death and found in a dumpster."

You: "That's horrible," Molly commiserated. "She's probably waiting for me in the morgue right now." She sighed and carefully did not look at Sherlock again. "I'm going to check on John before heading to work. Want to come with me?"

Stranger: "Sure. This case though... God, sound like one that Sherlo-" Lestrade closed his eyes and winced as though the word alone caused him pain. "-he- would have like it." Lestrade finished slowly.

You: Molly felt tears prick her eyes even though she -knew- Sherlock was still alive. "It's so hard and its only been one day," she murmured. "I can't imagine what its going to be like a week from now or a month."

Stranger: "God..." Lestrade felt the hot stabs behind his eye of the tears that were tryin to form. He fought them away. "I'm sure everything will be ten times harder for John... He really cared for the man..."

You: "Yeah, I know," Molly replied. "Everyone saw it but them." She was walking away from Sherlock, kindly holding her umbrella over both her and Lestrade. She wasn't sure if she wanted him to hear that or not. "My car is just over here and Bart's isn't too far," she continued

Stranger: "John said it, just yesterday. When he was out cold in the hospital room. He was muttering in his sleep and said 'I love you, Sherlock Holmes.' It brought tears to my eyes...."

You: Molly stared at Lestrade and was quite speechless. "Really?" she finally choked out. "It's so horrible that it took his death to make John realize it. I just wish...." Molly trailed off and felt the tears roll down her face.

Stranger: "I know, it's so hard..." Lestrade pulled Molly into a one arm hug. "Well have to keep going though, if not for us then for John... We lost a friend, he lost half his life." Lestrade choked out as tears threatened to let loose as well.

You: "And speaking of John," Molly said, taking the opening. "We need to watch over him. He misjudged the dosage on accident this time. I want to make sure he doesn't do it on purpose. What do you think?"

Stranger: "I agree... I'm afraid he's going to loose it and just, take his own life... Just to be with Sherlock..." Lestrade almost whispered.

You: "I know," Molly replied sadly. "But if we can be there, carry him through. We lost him too. Maybe it will help if we can get together sometimes. Just talk." Molly unlocked her car and got in, starting it while Lestrade folded himself into the passenger side.

Stranger: "Maybe... And maybe we can find a professional for John? Just to see if that works?" Lestrade said as he buckled in and seat back in the seat with a moan.

You: "Maybe," Molly replied. "I don't know if he'd open up to a stranger though. It'd be worth a try." She eased into traffic and smoothly made her way to the hospital. She took a deep breath before getting out, knowing she would have to lie to John if he asked about anything relating to Sherlock.

Stranger: "We should put on our best faces for John. He needs to relax and not be all stressed out and crying while he's here..." Lestrade said, joining Molly on the way to the stairs.

You: "Yes," Molly agreed absently. She ran a hand over her hair, smoothing it down into her ponytail. When they walked into John's room, she was relieved to see more color in the doctor's face and that he was awake and alert.

Stranger: "Hey, John." Lestrade smiled as he entered. "Mind if we come in?"

You: "No," John said tiredly. "Morning. I'm assuming you want to talk to me about my accidental overdose?"

Stranger: "Well, you should be more careful next time." Lestrade frowned. "But we can talk about that later if you want."

You: "No, it's all right," John replied. "Let me reassure you now. There won't be a next time. Ever."

Stranger: "I'm glad. You really scared me, John." Lestrade said, running a hand through John's hair before pulling up a seat and siting next to Molly beside John's bed.

You: "I know, it was stupid and it was reckless. It accomplished nothing," John sighed, closing his eyes. A day later and still he wasn't sure he could handle the pain of losing -him-.

Stranger: "How are you feeling after... Yesterday's events?" Lestrade asked, choosing his words carefully.

You: "Tired, mostly, and cold," John replied honestly. "Part of me still doesn't believe.... what I saw."

Stranger: "I know.. It's hard for all of us..." Molly said slowly, looking at Lestrade. "How's Mycroft taking it anyway?"

You: "It's hard to tell," Lestrade answered. "He shows sadness but then tamps it back down. I think he feels emotions are a weakness."

Stranger: "Just like his brother..." John chuckled sadly and Molly turned to him, watching as tears pooled in his eyes.

You: "John, Sherlock did care," Molly said quietly, guilt ripping through her as she watched him flinch. "He cared about you, always looked to you for approval."

Stranger: "And we know you cared greatly about him." Lestrade added.

You: "Yeah, I did," John muttered, looking away. Then a previous comment filtered through his mind. "Wait, Greg, why would Molly ask you about Mycroft?"

Stranger: "Oh... Well, see... We're kind of... Dating now." Lestrade blushed a light pink.

You: "Really?" John asked, a pained smile lighting his face. "Congratulations. Hope he's better for you than your ex-wife."

Stranger: "I know he is... I really... -care-... For him." Lestrade emphasized care, hoping John would make the connection.

You: "Really?" John repeats. "And by care you mean possibly love?" The smile gets wider as he takes in his friend's happiness over it. Someone should be happy right now.

Stranger: "You of all people should know that." Lestrade smiled at John in hint.

You: John tilted his head at Lestrade, trying to get where the DI is going with his. "What do you mean?" he finally asked, guardedly.

Stranger: "You really -cared- for... Him... Didn't you?" Lestrade asked, giving John the 'I already know so you might as well save time and tell us' face.

You: "Yes," John said, finally giving in. "I love him. Is that what you wanted to hear?"

Stranger: "It was, yes." Lestrade took John's hand and shook it lightly. "Why did you never tell him?"

You: John looked away, his face going red. "With how many times I swore I wasn't gay? And honestly, I ignored it until.... yeah. And now, when it's too late, I can finally admit it."

Stranger: "Just because he's your exception doesn't mean you're gay." Molly smiled. "I agreed." Lestrade chimed in. "You shouldn't have waited. You two really had something special."

You: John smiled at them, tears prickling in his eyes. "Thanks," he said, then swallowed hard. "Do you know.... when the... the... funeral will be? I really want... to be there."

Stranger: "We haven't planned a date yet. We wanted you with us to do that." Lestrade said sadly. "Are you going to make a speech?"

You: "I don't think I could," John replied, tears falling down his face. "Yeah, not a good idea, me trying to talk that day."

Stranger: "Want to write some things down and I can read them off for you?" Molly asked. "I'm sure you'd want to say something..."

You: "Thanks," John said. "That's really sweet of you Molly. Though, now I'm getting tired again and I'd appreciate it if I could see you guys later?"

Stranger: "That's fine, I actually have to get to work anyway." Molly looked at her watch. "I'll be upstairs. Send for me if you need anything." Molly stood and kissed John on the forehead lightly. "I really am sorry..." She whispered to him. Straightening up, she looked at Leatrade. "Need a ride back to work?"

You: "No, I need to stop at a restaurant near here," Lestrade replied as John smiled his thanks at Molly. The doctor's eyes slipped closed before they even left the room. "See you later tonight?" he asked as they walked down the hallway.

Stranger: "did you wanna see if the body is up there before you leave?" Molly asked, pressing the button to the elevator.

You: "No, I'll let you do the autopsy first," Lestrade replied. "Can you email me the results?"

Stranger: "Course. And I'll bring a record tonight if I can." Molly said as they stepped into the elevator, pressing the two extreme floors, top and bottom. "See you tonight at Mycroft's then. I'll only stay the hour or less, as promised."

You: "Thanks, Molly," Lestrade smiles at her before waving and walking outside. He has a case he needs to solve and Molly has work of her own.

Stranger: Sherlock stood outside the office building, rolling the thoughts around in his mind. John said he... Loved him? Why has he never told him? No, he had to stay focused on the task at hand. But what will John do when he finally goes back to him? Will he tell him then? Would he ever face his feelings? Would he return them?

You: Eric decided to go for a walk to clear his head. The case was fairly easy to solve, the husband went to his brother's, and his goal wasn't to actually work here anyway. He ambled past the stranger on the bench, not noticing when said stranger got up to trail after him.

Stranger: Sherlock followed a good twenty feet behind, keeping his head down and ducked under the unbrella. He followed in silence, barely making a noise besides the sloshing of his shoes on the wet sidewalk.

You: Eric stopped outside a small coffee cart a couple blocks away from the police department. He ordered a cup of coffee and sat down at one of the tables, pulling out his phone. He placed a call and waited for the other end to pick up

Stranger: Sherlock sat on a wet bench, masterly hid by a bush that sat in a small sidewalk garden. He watched out of the corner of his eye as the man sat in the rain, getting soaked and waiting for the call to connect.

You: "Yes?" a gruff voice finally said. "It's Eric," the sniper replied. "How long do I have to stay on the DI? His plaything is dead."

Stranger: Sherlock leaned closer, trying to hear the other on the phone. Eric's voice rang loud and clear to him but the phone was blocked out by the deafening sound of the rain pounding the plants and sidewalk around him.

You: "That is still not known for sure," the voice replied. "The autopsy has not been finished yet. You will be called when you can leave. Do not call again." The click heralded the other end hanging up and Eric glared at his phone. "Damn it. The man's dead and this is a boring job."

Stranger: As the man stood, Sherlock made a second decision. Standing and walking briskly to Eric, he snached the phone from his hand and bumped into him, hard, keeping his head down. "Watch it, would you?!" Eric called after him, but Sherlock had what he wanted and made his way back to Molly's.

You: Eric shook his head at the weird guy who had bumped into him. "Some people have no manners," he griped before walking back to the station. He needed a change of clothes after sitting in the rain. He didn't notice until much later that his phone was missing

Stranger: Sherlock reached Molly's appartment and quickly stripped of his wet clothes, throwing them in a pile in the spare room she had given him and changing into his old, familiar clothes and coat. He went to lay on the couch and start on the phone, noting it was around three in the afternoon, waiting for Molly to return.

\-----------------------------------------

You: Molly sighed as she stood outside another room in the morgue. She had already finished the autopsy on Greg's murder victim, wanting to put off this next bit for as long as she could. When she got up the courage to open the door, she was startled to see Mycroft standing next to the body of the man chosen to be Sherlock.

Stranger: "Evening Molly." Mycroft forced a smile, leaning hard on the umbrella grasped in his hand.

You: "Hello, Mycroft," Molly replied. "What are you doing here? This isn't actually Sherlock, as you already know."

Stranger: "I know, which is actually why I'm here. See, Sherlock text me to come and help, to get the report perfect and all. You know, can't have a mess up now, not that we doubt your ability. We just thought you needed someone who knew Sherlock... a little better is all." Mycroft walked around the body on the table to face her.

You: "All right," Molly said, ignoring the fact that Mycroft was babbling a bit. "Thank you, help from the British Government would be welcome." She smirked at Mycroft as the man sighed.

Stranger: "Enough talk, we should get started. I have other things to attend to." Mycroft paced back to the body.

You: Molly nodded and turned on the recording device suspended above the body. She stated the particulars, not bothering to hide the shudder in her voice. She picked up the scalpel and turned to Mycroft. "If you're squeamish, you may want to look away now," she warned

Stranger: "Squeamish?" Mycroft repeated, raising an eyebrow at her.

You: "Hey, I have no idea if you've ever seen an autopsy before," Molly said. "They aren't pretty." Without waiting for an answer, she made the first incision in the chest and proceeded with the autopsy

Stranger: Mycroft stood back enough to give Molly the room she needed to move freely around the table. He clenched and unclenched his umbrella, standing quietly in the back.

You: When she was done cataloguing and dissecting, Molly sewed the body up and cleaned up after herself. She looked at Mycroft and said, "Now to file the report and he is officially gone."

Stranger: "Good. I'll just watch and correct if I see fit, if you don't mind?"

You: "Fine," Molly said. She grabbed the tape out of the recorder and moved the body back into storage. Leading Mycroft to her office, Molly sat and typed out her report.

Stranger: Mycroft watched over her shoulder, noting things here and there to make it slightly more like Sherlock, but it mostly looked good.

You: Molly filed the report once it was corrected to Mycroft's satisfaction and sat back in her chair. "There," she said tiredly. "He's dead. Anything else you need from me right now?"

Stranger: "No. How was John though, before I leave. I heard you and Lestrade went to see him this morning." Mycroft said, stopping at the door handle.

You: "He was ok," Molly replied. She debated how much she should tell Mycroft and finally decided to tell him everything. "He's promised not to do it again. He also admitted something. He loves Sherlock."

Stranger: "He does? Wow." Mycroft said in forced shock. He didn't sound like he really cared. "Send him my wishes if you see him soon." And with that, Mycroft swept out of the room.

You: "What the hell was that?" Molly muttered to herself. "Does that man really not have a heart?" She shook her head as she closed down her computer and threw on her coat. She headed out and drove home.

Stranger: Sherlock played with the phone on the couch as he heard the lock click behind him. "Evening Molly." Sherlock said over his shoulder as he heard the door close behind her and her familiar footsteps head to the kitchen.

You: "Evening, Sherlock," Molly replied. "How was your day today? Did you follow the sniper?"

Stranger: "Did two better. Got his phone." Sherlock held up the device and then continued to press buttons.

You: "Oh?" Molly asked, surprised. She walked out of the kitchen carrying things for tea and set them on the coffee table. "And what are you going to do with it?"

Stranger: "He was speaking to someone on it as I trailed him. Sounded like whoever was ordering him on Lestrade. I was hoping to get the number, but of course there are no contacts, all the inboxs and call records are blocked with four-digit passwords, and there are no clues as to what they are." Sherlock tossed the phone onto floor a few feet away and stapled his hands under his chin. "I can't figure it out..."

You: "Well, at least you know he is the sniper on Greg," Molly said cheerfully. "That's one found and two more to go. What are you planning on doing with him?"

Stranger: "I need to... cut him off." Sherlock said at length. "Kill him without drawing attention. That's the tricky part..."

You: "Traffic accident," Molly said matter-of-factly. "Stage it as a traffic accident and no one will ever suspect."

Stranger: "How? Run him over? No, police will get on me. Pay someone? Can still lead back to me. Push him into traffic? Too many on-lookers." Sherlock sat up and looked at Molly. "I can't see how."

You: "Have Mycroft hire someone to stage a hit and run," Molly said, warming to her idea. "Surely he knows -someone- who'd be willing to do it. That way, it never ties back to you, there's never a criminal who could possibly talk, and he simply becomes another unsolved case in London."

Stranger: "I'll talk to Mycroft... With still some risk. Do you know how many 'unsolvable' cases -I- have solved?"

You: "But you won't be solving this one, will you?" Molly asked reasonably, smiling at Sherlock. She felt a small weight lifting from her, even though they were discussing the death of a man. The sooner this was over, the sooner Sherlock could come back. Go back to John.

Stranger: "I guess not..." Sherlock said, thinking. "I'll have to speak with Mycroft."

You: "I saw him earlier today, by the way," Molly said, nibbling on a cookie. "He helped with the autopsy report. You are now officially dead."

Stranger: "Oh? I feel no different." Sherlock smirked.

You: Molly smiled back and giggled. "Can I see the phone?" Molly asked

Stranger: Sherlock waved at it on the ground as he laid back down and watched her.

You: Molly picked up the phone and studied the buttons, clicking to see the password entry screen. "Some of the buttons are more worn that others," she pointed out.

Stranger: "Doesn't mean anything." Sherlock said lazily. "If you look in the contacts, there aren't any. Basically, the seven digits of whatever number he's calling off that phone are the numbers wearing down. The passcodes are for security in case the phone falls into the wrong hands, such as me." Sherlock rubbed tiredly at his eyes.

You: "But having to enter the passcode every time would also wear the buttons down, right?" Molly asked, persisting in trying to help.

Stranger: "He wouldn't need to. Empty contacts means he memorized any phone number he needed. Passwords indicate that, even if we were to crack the passwords, he would be smart enough to erase all history of texts or calls. The passwords are just there for extra back up and he has no need to use them."

You: "So the phone's useless?" Molly asked, her face dropping sadly

Stranger: "Not entirly." Sherlock sat up. "There is the slight chase he didn't erase the last call he made. I snached it before he had the chance. The phone is usless in cracking the passwords, but there are people for that." Sherlock said, standing and taking the phone lightly from Molly.

You: Molly nodded and finished her cookie. She looked at the time and realized she only had a little bit to shower and change to head to Mycroft's.

Stranger: "Not to mention," Sherlock continued. "Every phone has a calling plan, and every plan has a history. If we can somehow get into that history... which is a long shot... We could crack more of the case open."

You: "That sounds like a good plan," Molly said, standing. "I'm going to go get ready to head to Mycroft's. Anything you want me to tell him?"

Stranger: "Just, ask him about the phone, will you?" Sherlock said, pacing to the window.

You: "I can do that," Molly replied. "If Greg is in the room, I'll just tell him I found it on the street or something." Molly walked to her room and closed her door. She grabbed a clean pair of clothes and showered quickly. After she had changed, she walked back out and looked at Sherlock. "You want me to bring the phone to him?" she asked.

Stranger: "No, just ask him if he could crack a phone for you later. Say you found it on a body or something." Sherlock waved it off.

You: "All right. I'll be back later," Molly said, smiling. "Try not to blow up my flat." She waved and walked out the door, down to her car.

\-------------------------------------------------

Stranger: A bell rang through the flat and Mycroft got up to answer the door. Lestrade stood in the doorway as he opened it and beamed up at Mycroft.

You: "Welcome, Greg," Mycroft said, smiling at the DI. "Come in." He stepped back to allow the inspector to enter his home.

Stranger: "Evening Mycroft." Lestrade smiled as the door closed and quickly kissing Mycroft, who was caught off gaurd.

You: Mycroft stood there as Lestrade kissed him, surprise freezing his movements. Finally, he brought his hand up and gripped Lestrade's shoulder, holding him close

Stranger: Lestrade pulled back and smiled at Mycroft. "Missed you." He smiled shyly, looking into Mycroft's deep eyes.

You: "And I, you," Mycroft replied before pulling the inspector into a hug. His hands ran possessively over the man's back.

Stranger: Lestrade relaxed into the arms of his boyfriend, the feeling of coming back from work to a loving caring grip left him overjoyed. He gripped Mycroft's shoulders, hugging his tight. He kissed Mycroft's neck and buried his face into the crick of the neck.

You: Mycroft held him tightly, his head tilting down to bury his nose in Lestrade's hair. He breathed in the scent of the man, musky with a sweet overtone. He found himself never wanting to let go.

Stranger: Just as Lestrade was about to pull Mycroft into another long, loving kiss, the bell rang once again through the flat, indicating someone at the door.

You: "Molly," Mycroft said sadly. "Remember we told her an hour." With a final kiss on the cheek, Mycroft pulled away to open the door for Molly. "Welcome," he said, ushering her in

Stranger: "Evening Mycroft. Greg." Molly beamed, nodding past Mycroft and into the flat.

You: Mycroft rang his housekeeper for tea and led the others into his sitting room. They all sat down and were served tea, Mycroft looking expectantly at Molly.

Stranger: "Molly and I were talking earlier..." Lestrade said, quickly before taking a sip of his tea. "We were thinking of getting John into someone to help him through the... pain of losing Sherlock." Lestrade sipped his tea and looked at Molly to continue.

You: "If he could talk with someone, it may help," Molly chipped in. "Though he never really seemed the talking to strangers type."

Stranger: "Do you know anyone by chance? Maybe if the person is friends with you... John will feel more... comfertable talking to them." Lestrade finished, looking at Mycroft.

You: "John was speaking with a therapist when he came back from Afghanistan," Mycroft mused. "Perhaps he would feel comfortable going to her."

Stranger: "Perhaps..." Lestrade sipped his tea again. "I just hope talking will be enough.."

You: "I'll keep an eye on him as well," Mycroft said. "Among the three of us, I'm sure we can hold John together." Mycroft purposely met Molly's eyes, 'Until he comes back' written across his face.

Stranger: Lestrade looked between the two of them, feeling he was missing something. He placed his cup back on the table and cleared his throat.

You: Molly finished her tea quickly as the clock struck the hour and said, "Well, I think that's everything I came here for. I'm very reassured with all of us keeping an eye on John."

Stranger: "Agreed." Mycroft stood to walk Molly to the door, leaving Lestrade in the sitting room. As he held the door, he added quickly to Molly in a hushed tone. "Tell Sherlock I'll get to him tomorrow with new information."

You: "I have something from him for you," Molly whispered back. She handed him a slip of paper with the phone number on it. "It's from the sniper on Greg. He wants to know if you can get the call history."

You: "And tell Greg I emailed him that autopsy on the murdered woman," Molly finished

Stranger: "Will do, I'll get the history and email it to you by tomorrow noon." Mycroft stuffed the paper in his pocket. "I'll stop by tomorrow. If you're working, I'll just talk to Sherlock." And with that, Mycroft shut the door.

You: Molly stared at the door, a small smile crossing her face. She had a pretty good idea what they were going to get up to and she was happy Greg had found someone to make him happy. She headed back to her car and drove home.

\----------------------------------

Stranger: "She gone?" Lestrade asked, standing as Mycroft re-entered the room.

You: "Indeed she is," Mycroft said, sitting back down on the couch next to Lestrade. "What would you like to do tonight?"

Stranger: "No idea..." Lestrade smiled, leaning closer to Mycroft.

You: Mycroft smiled at Lestrade and leaned into him, brushing his lips over the DI's.

Stranger: "That it?" Lestrade pretended to pout.

You: Mycroft lifted his hand to place his thumb against Lestrade's bottom lip and part his lips. He leaned forward again and licked into the DI's mouth, his tongue exploring.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned happily, leaning into his boyfriend, resting on a hand in between Mycroft's legs against the couch, steadying himself.

You: Wrapping one arm around Lestrade's shoulders, Mycroft pulled the man against him. He ran his hand over Lestrade's back and sides, tracing the muscles underneath the clothing

Stranger: Slowly, Lestrade crawled onto the couch and made Mycroft lean back till he was laying on the couch and Lestrade was over him. Lestrade deepened the kiss and ran a hand through Mycroft's hair, the other keeping him in a half push-up over his boyfriend, not wanting to crush him.

You: "You can rest your weight on me," Mycroft whispered against Lestrade's lips. "I don't break easily." He kissed him again, tangling one hand in Lestrade's hair.

Stranger: Gently, Lestrade lowered himself onto Mycroft until their bodies were pressed against one another. Lestrade let his other hand wonder down to Mycroft's lower back, twitching to go lower.

You: Mycroft hummed when he felt Lestrade's weight settle onto him. He ran his hands over the DI's back again, toying with the hem of his shirt and pressing gently and the skin beneath

Stranger: Lestrade ran his hands up Mycroft's body, feeling every curve and moaning slightly with delight. He lifted his weight off just enough to start playing with the top button of Mycroft's shirt.

You: "Go ahead," Mycroft murmured, pulling his shoulders back.

Stranger: Lestrade undid the first one, then the second, then continued down till they were all undone. Letting the shirt fall from around the body of his boyfriend, Lestrade slid his hands up the bare flesh, examining every inch.

You: Mycroft arched into Lestrade's hands, his mouth falling open in a pant. He ran his hands up Lestrade's arms and wrapped them around his neck

Stranger: Lestrade took the oppertunity to slid his tongue into Mycroft's mouth and explore a bit. He pulled back and went down to Mycroft's neck, kissing it lightly down to the collor bone.

You: Mycroft groaned again, his hands moving under Lestrade's shirt and raking his nails across the skin. He lifted the shirt slightly and then looked deep into Lestrade's eyes for permission to continue

Stranger: Lestrade nodded and lifted his hands above his head so Mycroft could slip off the unneeded clothing. He chuckled deeply as he enjoyed Mycroft's hands explore the newly exposed skin.

You: After dropping the shirt on the floor, Mycroft moved his hands back to Lestrade's chest. He circled the man's nipples gently then leaned up and bit at his collarbone

Stranger: "Mycroft..." Lestrade moaned gently as he arched his neck back to let Mycroft get a better angle.

You: "Yes, love?" Mycroft replied, moving up Lestrade's neck. He sucked gently at the point underneath Lestrade's jaw.

Stranger: "God..." Lestrade moaned. He slid his hands down farther on the man, grabbing the button of Mycroft's pants in his fingers and moving it around gently, not letting it come undone till Mycroft allowed him.

You: "Whatever you want to do, do it," Mycroft urged him. "I won't stop you." He shifted his hips invitingly, craving the man's touch.

Stranger: Lestrade gasped and slowly let the button fall apart in his fingers. He drew the zipper down and his heart rate jumpped quickly. He slid his thumbs under the band of the loosened pants and waited, unsure.

You: Mycroft nodded at Lestrade and caressed the nape of his neck. He drew the man down for a deep kiss and pushed his tongue inside his mouth

Stranger: Lestrade tightened his grip on the waist band, pulling it down just so slightly. Mycroft's boxers were exposed tightly around his hips and Lestrade gaspesd again as Mycroft moved his hips into his.

You: "Greg..." Mycroft moaned, grinding his hips into Lestrade's. "You don't have to be so timid. I do indeed want you and whatever you want to do."

Stranger: "I know.. I'm just unsure... I've never... done it with a man..." Lestrade whispered back, leaning his forehead on Mycroft's chest.

You: "It's all right," Mycroft told him. He rubbed soothing circles on Lestrade's back, holding the man close to him. "You take the lead in this. I'm comfortable with however far you want to go."

Stranger: Lestrade let a small smile dance on his lips as he kissed Mycroft gently. Slowly, Lestrade slid the pants to around Mycroft's anckles, bringing his hand, hastily, up to the inside of Mycroft's thigh.

You: Mycroft kicked his pants off then spread his legs slightly, allowing Lestrade greater access to him. He kissed the inspector back gently, running his tongue along the man's bottom lip

Stranger: Lestrade paused for a few rapid heart beats before cupping Mycroft's length in his hand, palming it gently. His other hand grabbed Mycroft's waist as he kissed him.

You: Mycroft hissed as Lestrade stroked him, his hips pumping up into his hand. He nipped at Lestrade's lower lip and swiped his tongue over the bite, trying to keep himself under control.

Stranger: Lestrade could feel Mycroft heating up at the touch. The bulge grew rapidly, Mycroft's movements were a little more jerky, more needy. His kiss deepened as he pressed the opening with a single finger.

You: Mycroft sucked on Lestrade's tongue, kissing him hungrily. He growled deep in his throat as Lestrade's hands wandered and threw back his head.

Stranger: "Y-you ok, l-l-love?" Lestrade choked out, feeling beads of sweat rolling down his temple.

You: "Yes, don't stop," Mycroft growled. He met Lestrade's eyes and let his hunger and desire burn through him.

Stranger: Lestrade's eyes widened as he saw the want and need in Mycroft's eyes. Slowly, he raised up, hoping Mycroft would take the hint.

You: Smiling, Mycroft moved his hands to the button of Lestrade's pants and slowly undid it. He hooked his fingers in the waistband of the pants and boxers, slowly sliding them down.

Stranger: Lestrade hissed as the cool air in the house hit his crotch as Mycroft exposed it. He kicked them all the way off and moved his hands to either side of Mycroft's shoulders, letting his body press deeply against Mycroft. His growled at the friction as he erection moved against his boyfriend's.

You: Mycroft gripped Lestrade's hips, pulling him hard against him. He ground his hips into the other man's feeling Lestrade get harder above him.

Stranger: "Jesus..." Lestrade growled. He hooked his fingers in the band of Mycroft's boxers.

You: Mycroft lifted his hips obligingly, allowing Lestrade to slip his boxers off.

Stranger: Lestrade gently slid the boxers down Mycrofts hips, exposing his completely.

You: Mycroft kicked the boxers off and they joined his pants on the floor. He smiled up at Lestrade and waited for his next move.

Stranger: Lestrade looked down at Mycroft. His heart rate was through the roof, his blood was boiling. He just froze where he was and looked at Mycroft.

You: "Like what you see?" Mycroft asked, watching Lestrade's face. He saw panic flash in the DI's eyes and tried to dispell the tension. "We can always turn the lights out if that would make you more comfortable."

Stranger: "N-no just... just give me a minute... I'm not... used to this..." Lestrade stuttered slowly, looking Mycroft up and down.

You: "Take your time, love," Mycroft replied, not moving. He kept his hands light on Lestrade's back and watched his eyes.

Stranger: "W-what do I do now?" Lestrade stuttered.

You: Mycroft chuckled at the confusion in Lestrade's voice. "Greg, you do what you want to do. You can just lay here, you can kiss me, you can touch me. Don't feel awkward."

Stranger: Lestrade slowly laid down on Mycroft and kissed him lightly.

You: Running his hands gently over Lestrade's back again, Mycroft kissed him back. He didn't deepen the kiss, just let his lips rest against the DI's.

Stranger: Lestrade bit at Mycroft's lip lightly. He moaned at his boyfriends gental touch.

You: Mycroft slowly slid his hands lower, alert for any sign to stop. He brushed gently at the small of Lestrade's back before letting his hands drift down to his ass

Stranger: Lestrade gasped slightly in shock. He laid there, frozen, kissing Mycroft, waiting.

You: "You're in the lead with this," Mycroft gently reminded him. "What do you want to do next?"

Stranger: Lestrade swallowed hard. He knew what he wanted, he just didn't know if he had the courage to do it. Or ask for it.

You: Mycroft kissed both of his cheeks before capturing Lestrade's lips again. He dipped his tongue in, teasing just inside Lestrade's mouth.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled back and thought for a moment. "Turn over..." Lestrade basically whispered, avoiding eye contact.

You: Mycroft brushed his fingers over Lestrade's cheek before following the order, a smile creasing his face

Stranger: Lestrade watched Mycroft turn. He wrapped his arms around Mycrofts chest, hugging him and kissing his shoulders for a moment. Slowly, he sat up and pressed his tip to Mycroft, waiting for a reaction.

You: "Go ahead," Mycroft whispered into the cushions of the couch, relaxing his muscles as well as he could.

Stranger: Biting his lip, Lestrade gently pushed in, pausing about half way in and gasping.

You: Mycroft jerked his hips as Lestrade eased into him, biting his lip at the sting of pain. He panted as he got used to the intrusion, then nodded for Lestrade to continue

Stranger: Lestrade sat there for a minute before pushing all the way in, moaning as the muscles around him squeezed slightly. He felt Mycroft tense lightly in the pain and he paused again.

You: "Yes," Mycroft hissed as Lestrade's hips hit his own. He fisted his hands into the couch cushions and waited while his muscles relaxed around Lestrade. "Ok," he murmured to Lestrade. "Don't stop now."

Stranger: "S-sorry..." Lestrade whimpered. He slowly started to pump in and out, feeling himself hit a nerve deep in Mycroft every time.

You: "D... Don't be," Mycroft groaned, his hips matching Lestrade's rhythm. "Just... don't.... stop."

Stranger: Lestrade sped up a little, digging his finger nails into Mycroft's sides. He bit his lip as pleasure coursed through him.

You: "Yes, harder," Mycroft growled, his erection rubbing against the fabric of the couch. He slid his hand down and stroked himself, his eyes closing at the pleasure

Stranger: Lestrade took Mycroft's hand that was stroking himself. "Le-let me..." Shakily, Lestrade took Mycroft and started to match his hand movements with his hips. He kissed Mycroft's should blade as he pumped in deeply.

You: "God, Greg," Mycroft screamed. He reached one hand back to grab onto Lestrade's hip, gripping tightly.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled, watching this wonderful man melt, quiet litterally, in his hands. He nibbled at Mycroft's shoulder, pumping in short, fast, hard sparks.

You: Mycroft panted, his breath coming in short, hard gasps. His hips lifted off the couch and he shifted his knees under him to allow Lestrade to penetrate deeper into him.

Stranger: "Mycroft?" Lestrade whispered, not slowly down.

You: "What?" he replied, voice hoarse.

Stranger: "Mycroft... I'm..." Lestrade moaned into Mycroft's skin.

You: "You're about to come?" Mycroft asked playfully. "Go ahead. I want to feel you explode inside me."

Stranger: Lestrade bit Mycroft's neck. "Yesss..." He moaned.

You: Mycroft screamed Lestrade's name as he came, his erection jerking in the DI's grip. He arched his back, wanting every inch of his skin in contact with Lestrade's.

Stranger: Lestrade felt the warm liquid slid over his hand. A minute later, he screamed, throwing his head back. He panted Mycroft's name as he rode out his erection deep inside Mycroft.

You: Collapsing down on the couch, Mycroft turned his head and focused on Lestrade's eyes. "You are really good, Greg," he murmured tiredly

Stranger: Lestrade pulled out and laid back against the pillows behind him. "God..." Was all he was able to choke out.

You: "Are you ok?" Mycroft asked, sitting up and turning to Lestrade. He pulled the DI into a hug, pressing Lestrade's head against his shoulder.

Stranger: "Y-yeah..." Lestrade murmered into Mycroft's shoulder, feeling the sweat balling up on him.

You: Mycroft kissed the top of Lestrade's head and ran a hand down his back. "We should clean up. Want to shower?"

Stranger: "T-Together?" Lestrade asked, sitting up.

You: Mycroft dropped his arms, looking into the DI's eyes. "If you want to," Mycroft replied. "I would enjoy it."

Stranger: Lestrade could only nod, words failing him.

You: Mycroft smiled at him and stood from the couch. He held out his hand to Lestrade and waited until the other man took it. He led Lestrade upstairs and into the bathroom attached to his room.

Stranger: "I... don't have any clean clothes." Lestrade said as Mycroft pushed him against the door to the bathroom.

You: "I've got a dressing gown you can borrow," Mycroft said. "And I can send one of my servants out to get you some clothes." He kissed Lestrade hungrily, his hands roaming his chest.

Stranger: "The... Dressing gown is... fine." Lestrade said between snogging. His hands found Mycroft's ass and pulled him closer.

You: Mycroft hummed in pleasure as Lestrade pulled him against him. He moved down his neck, licking and biting at the artery underneath his jaw. "What about work tomorrow?" Mycroft asked, a note of teasing in his voice

Stranger: "What about it?" Lestrade hummed.

You: "You can't exactly go in naked," Mycroft jokes. "I don't want to share you. Unless you decide to stay with me." His hands slide down to cup Lestrade's ass, kneading at the muscle underneath the skin

Stranger: "To Hell with work. I haven't missed a day yet. One sick day wont end the world." Lestrade growled as he was pushed deeper against the door.

You: "Good," Mycroft hissed against his neck. "I want you completely mine." With a final bite, Mycroft turned away and started the shower. He waited until it was warm then pulled Lestrade in with him.

Stranger: Lestrade stumbled clumsily into the shower, pulled by Mycroft. He looked at Mycroft shyly.

You: Mycroft kissed his eyelids, his cheeks, then his lips before pushing Lestrade against the wall. He drove his tongue into Lestrade's mouth imperiously, wanting to taste the DI.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned and a small squeek even escaped his lips. He grabbed Mycroft's hips, pulling his on him.

You: Running his hands over the DI's chest, Mycroft kissed him deeper, more passionately. "Can I return what you gave me?" he asked hoarsely, breaking their kiss

Stranger: Lestrade gasped. "Y-Yes..." He struggled to say through the steam.

You: Mycroft smiled before placing his hands on Lestrade's shoulders and turning him. Pressing his chest into the wet tile, Mycroft brushed kisses over Lestrade's shoulders.

Stranger: Lestrade hissed in anticipation. The cold tile with the hot steam and warm body all against him made him feel goosbumps rise from his arms. "God..."

You: Gently spreading the DI's legs a bit, Mycroft worked one finger inside him. He went slowly, stretching the muscles as Lestrade bucked back against him.

Stranger: "God, Mycroft!" Lestrade screamed into the tile, he clawed at the shower.

You: "Relax, Greg," Mycroft told him, one arm wrapping around his chest. "I've got you." He continued working his finger in, stopping when he was buried to the last knuckle.

Stranger: Lestrade shivered at the touch. Mycroft was holding him so perfectly, touching him so perfectly. His vision was blury as he stared at the tile.

You: As he felt Lestrade relax against him, Mycroft pulled out and pushed two fingers inside. He worked them in, stretching them apart slightly. He grinned at the guttural noises Lestrade was making.

Stranger: Lestrade basically whimpered at the touch. He felt week at the knees as he clawed at the tiles.

You: "Love, are you ready?" Mycroft whispered, kissing the nape of Lestrade's neck and withdrawing his fingers. He was hard again now; touching the DI was enough to arouse him beyond measure

Stranger: Lestrade nodded against the tile. "Please.... enter me..." He growled.

You: Mycroft growled deep in his throat and lined the throbbing head of his erection up with Lestrade's entrace. He bucked forward and slid in, pausing a couple inches in.

Stranger: Lestrade hissed as he entered. "Move... please, move..." Lestrade begged.

You: "Your wish, my command," Mycroft said, his voice gravelly. He pushed forward until he was completely enveloped in Lestrade then pulled back out until he was in danger of slipping out completely. Then, slowly back in until Lestrade was whimpering and pleading.

Stranger: "God... God... Mycroft... Please, Mycroft..." Lestrade begged. It hurt having him in so deep, but it brought so much pleasure. It was as if Mycroft filled him completely. His lungs burned, unable to find un-steamed air to pull in.

You: Mycroft moved faster, his hips slamming into the back of Lestrade's. The hand wrapped around the DI's chest moved up and caressed his nipples until they were hard and erect under his hands. He groaned into the DI's neck and bit at his shoulders.

Stranger: Lestrade bit his bottom lip hard. He was whimpering and moaning and making so many noises he didn't even know his body was capable of making. "Mycroft..." Lestrade moaned loudly, balling his hand into a fist on the tile and pounding the wall.

You: "Yes, love?" Mycroft asked teasingly. He reached down with his other hand and took Lestrade's hard length in hand. He stroked it gently, alternating the pressures.

Stranger: "Mycroft!" Lestrade shouted as Mycroft shoved in hard and fast.

You: Mycroft grunted in reply, his voice lost in the sensations. He moved faster, thrusting as deeply as he could inside Lestrade. He pumped faster at Lestrade's erection, his thumb running circles around the head.

Stranger: Lestrade did all he could not to just melt in Mycroft's hands, but failed horribly. His knees gave out and he started to slide down the wall.

You: "Wait, wait, don't fall Greg," Mycroft murmured, tightening his grip around Lestrade's chest. He pressed the upper half of his body against Lestrade's to help hold the man in place while he continued rubbing his erection and thrusting inside him.

Stranger: "S-sorry... Can't help it.." Lestrade struggled back to his feet.

You: "It's all right," Mycroft soothed him, placing butterfly kisses on his neck and shoulders. "I'm not going to be able to last much longer. You?"

Stranger: "Obviously not.. If you let go, I'm probably going to fall on my face.." Lestrade forced out a laugh.

You: "Then I won't let you go," Mycroft purred, his voice silky. He could feel the tightening in his belly and a twitching in Lestrade. Both of their breaths were coming in explosive pants and moans.

Stranger: "I'm close again..." Lestrade breathed.

You: "Good, come with me," Mycroft replied. He bit hard at Lestrade's shoulder as his orgasm ripped through him, a groan bubbling in his throat

Stranger: Lestrade soon followed, screaming Mycroft's name.

You: Mycroft held Lestrade through his orgasm, running a hand over his chest.

Stranger: Lestrade finished his orgasm and slumped against the tile.

You: Mycroft let him settle to the floor of the shower and he followed Lestrade. Wrapping his arms around the man, Mycroft pulled Lestrade back against his chest.

Stranger: Lestrade's lungs were burning from lack-of-oxygen. He leaned against his boyfriend, just enjoying the gental touch.

You: "Good?" Mycroft asked quietly, cupping water in his hand and laving it over Lestrade's skin.

Stranger: "Y-yeah..." Lestrade smiled up at him weakly.

You: Mycroft smiled down at him before kissing him lightly on the forehead. "When you feel up to it, we'll stand and get cleaned up." He continued to lave more water over Lestrade's skin, enjoying the smoothness

Stranger: "Lestrade closed his eyes for a moment, enjoying the feeling of Mycroft's hands running over him. This was so much better then any of his ex-wives. Why couldn't he have found Mycroft sooner?

You: "What are you thinking, love?" Mycroft whispered in his ear. The look of happiness on Lestrade's face made his heart clench

Stranger: "Nothing... Just how much I love you..." The words came out so easy. So unlike all the other times he had used them. They came without doubt or reason, purly because it was truth and that's what was needed to be said.

You: Mycroft felt his heart melt within his chest and a blissful smile crossed his face. He brushed his lips across Lestrade's forehead and murmured, "I love you, too Greg."

Stranger: Lestrade's stomach did a flip. He leaned closer to Mycroft and kissed him again. "I'm so glad." Lestrade smiled.

You: "Me too," Mycroft replied. He stretched his arms above his head and looked into Lestrade's eyes again. "Feeling up to standing yet?"

Stranger: "I think so." Lestrade smiled, kissing Mycroft one more time.

You: They helped each other stand and took turns running soap over each other. Mycroft snuck in several more kisses, playful and light.

Stranger: "Why couldn't I have found you sooner?" Lestrade muttered into Mycroft's shoulder as he ran soap up his lover's back

You: "I don't know," Mycroft whispered. "But I'm glad we found each other now."

Stranger: "Me too... It's just... It would have saved so much pain..." Lestrade frowned.

You: "Yes, but that pain made you who you are today," Mycroft replied. "And look at me, getting all philosphical." He ran gentle fingers through Lestrade's hair, washing out the last of the shampoo.

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled sadly. "I guess your right... Just promise me something?"

You: "What's that?" he asked curiously. Rinsing the last of the soap from himself and his lover, Mycroft shut the water off and draped a towel over each of them.

Stranger: "Don't leave me..." Lestrade said, pain in his eyes. "Please..."

You: "I'm not going anywhere, Greg," Mycroft whispered. He drew the other man into his arms, wrapping him securely. "I promise you that."

Stranger: Leatrade cuddled closer, being wrapped up in a warm hug and warm towels. He kissed the side of Mycroft's neck and hugged him tighter.

You: Mycroft smiled and breathed in the scent of his shampoo on Lestrade's hair. It gave him a warm, bright feeling, knowing his lover smelled like him. "Ready for some sleep?" he finally said

Stranger: "Very much so." Lestrade smiled, kissing Mycroft quickly.

You: Mycroft led the way into his bedroom, a king-sized bed sitting in the middle of the room. The sheets were of a pale gray Egyptain cotton, soft to the touch. He allowed Lestrade to choose a side before crawling in next to him.

Stranger: "Good night, my love." Lestrade smiled, kissing Mycroft long and slowly.

You: "Good night, love," Mycroft replied, running his fingers through Lestrade's hair. He kept the kiss slow and sweet before pulling the DI against him.

Stranger: "I love you..." Lestrade yawned, cuddling up to his boyfriend.

You: "I love you too," Mycroft whispered. He wrapped his arms tight around Lestrade's waist and closed his eyes. "Sleep and dream well."

Stranger: "You too." And with that, Lestrade fell asleep in the grasp of Mycroft. His breathing slowed and steadied and timed with Myroft's.

\--------------------end Chapter 3----------------------


	4. Eric

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We deal with the first snipper :)

Watching You Fall: Chapter 4  
by ~Black-Rose-117

\--------------------Chapter 4------------------------

You: Mycroft took a tureen filled with soup from the servant waiting on them and filled Lestrade's bowl himself. He grinned at the DI then filled his own bowl. "I'm glad you took the day off today," Mycroft said.

Stranger: "Me too." Lestrade smiled back, watching Mycroft serve them. "It's very relaxing for once. And I love hanging out like this."

You: "It's nice to finally share lunch with someone," Mycroft continued. "All too often, I eat alone reading the newspaper." He grimaced as his cellphone beeped an incoming text message from his pocket.

Stranger: "Who is it?" Lestrade smiled, leaning on his hands as Mycroft looked at the scene.

You: "Anthea," Mycroft muttered absently. "Something requires my attention for a few moments. I swear, with how often they call me, my superiors would fall apart if I quit. If you will excuse me?" He looked into Lestrade's eyes and waited for him to speak

Stranger: "Of course..." Lestrade sat back in his seat, forcing the smile to hid the slight ping of hurt.

You: Mycroft stood then leaned down and kissed Lestrade, gently forcing his lips apart and dipping his tongue in. He smiled at Lestrade as he stood and walked into the living room. He looked over the call history Anthea had emailed to his phone then forwarded it to Molly. Here is the history as promised. Please let me know if Sherlock needs any more help. - MH

Stranger: Lestrade stirred his soup as he waited for Mycroft to come back. He knew just because he could take a day off didn't mean Mycroft could, but he still wondered what could be so important every time they text him that he had to leave right that second.

You: Thanks. Sherlock just left muttering about finding IOU. Guess that's what he needed. And I will. - MH

Stranger: It couldn't always be a national emergency, could it? If it was, wouldn't all of London have fallen apart by now?

You: Mycroft slipped his phone back into his pocket after carefull deleting the texts containing Sherlock's name. He walked back into the dining room and kissed Lestrade before sitting back down. "Where were we?" he asked, smiling at the DI

Stranger: Lestrade forced another smile as Mycroft sat down. "Don't know."

You: Mycroft looked closely at Lestrade and detected the strain around the DI's eyes and mouth. He laid a hand over the other man's and asked gently, "What's wrong?"

Stranger: "Nothing..." Lestrade lied quickly. "Nothing at all. Just... hungry."

You: "Are you sure?" Mycroft pressed, wanting to understand what was wrong. What put the pain in the DI's eyes.

Stranger: "I'm sure." Lestrade answered, then turned to his soup, spooning some into his mouth, avoiding Mycroft's eyes.

You: Mycroft let it go, hoping that he could get Lestrade to talk about it later. They continued eating in a companionable silence, trading heated glances.

\---------------------------------------------

Stranger: Sherlock stood outside the DI's building yet again. The sky was clear of clouds. Eric walked right past him and into the building. Sherlock hasn't seen Lestrade yet, who was always the first to get there for his shift. A slight panic bubbled up in his stomach. Should he text Mycroft?

You: Eric brushed past the stranger outside and glanced at the time on his new phone. He had picked it up last night and texted his new number to his boss. Upon reaching the squad room, he looked around, confused that Lestrade was not there.

Stranger: Pulling out his phone, Sherlock typed a quick message to Mycroft. Lestrade not here. You know where he is? -SH

You: Indeed I do, dear brother. He's busy and so am I. Please don't interrupt. - MH

Stranger: Sherlock read the message a few times over before closing the phone and pocketing it. He turned on his heel and started back to Molly's.

You: Eric decided to leave the mystery of where Lestrade was to be solved another time and take the day off. He waved to Donovan on his way out and bumped into the stranger he had seen earlier. "Excuse me," he said absently.

Stranger: Sherlock watched the man brush past him and dropped twenty paces behind. He followed the man, keeping his head down.

You: Eric wandered back to the coffee kiosk he had gone to yesterday and planned to enjoy himself for a while in the sunshine. His phone beeped an incoming text.  
Autopsy finished. Body confirmed to be Sherlock Holmes. Your job is done.  
"Finally," Eric muttered. "I told you guys the bloody detective was dead. And Lestrade is no threat."

Stranger: Sherlock sat down on the other side of the bush just as he did the day before. Lestrade was safe for the moment, but how long would that last? He had to follow him to his flat. He had to finish him off soon, or else Lestrade could be killed either way.

You: Eric grinned at his phone and placed it back in his pocket. He decided not to enjoy his coffee here and head back home. Hopefully, he'd be able to move back into his own flat in Germany soon.

Stranger: Sherlock stood as Eric started off yet again. He probably should just end it today, but how?

You: Eric walked to his own flat near the police department, not wanting to waste the money on a cab. He hummed to himself in pleasure, still not noticing the stranger following behind him. Letting himself into his flat, he didn't lock the door as he started to pack.

Stranger: Sherlock quietly opened the door that Eric had stupidly left unlocked. He started up the stairs, taking a thick-handled broom from the bottom of the stairs. He reached the top and listened carefully.

You: Eric continued humming as he threw his clothing into the two suitcases he kept under his bed. He hadn't collected any knickknacks or mementoes and had some room left over. He didn't hear the stealthy footsteps carrying his death closer.

Stranger: Sherlock glared down at the broom handle hatefully before raising it above his head. He brought it down, hitting Eric from behind directly on the side of the head. Letting the broomstick fall, Sherlock dragged the knocked-out body over to the window. He had to make it seem like an accident. He couldn't be traced. Opening the window, he lifted the body onto the ledge, and pushed it out. He heard gasps below and screams for someone to call 999. Sherlock quickly made his escape out the front door and back to Molly's. Not looking back, shaking slightly from what he had just done. Made someone die the same way he was supposed to... The same way John had watched him go.

You: A woman dashed up to Eric as his body hit the pavement. She could see no life in his eyes but tried to perform CPR to save him anyway. She sat there for several minutes until paramedics pushed her gently out of the way. Eric was taken to the hospital and pronounced dead there. Molly was called in to do the autopsy on him.

Stranger: I killed him Molly, he's the sniper. Make sure there's no evidence. -SH

You: What evidence could there be? I need to be thorough if you want to stay out of this. - MH

Stranger: Just... Make sure you don't mention broomstick handle-sized anything on his head and we should be good. -SH

You: Broomstick handle? What did you do to him, Sherlock? - MH

Stranger: I'll explain later. Long story. Just... cover? Please? -SH

You: All right. I'll text you when I'm done. - MH. Molly walked into the autopsy room and gasped at the sight of the body before her. His head was completely caved in on one side and many of his bones were broken. She completed the autopsy as quickly as she could, happy that the broomstick-handle-shaped damage was completely obscured by the fall.  
Done. Covered up. You owe me, Sherlock - MH

Stranger: I owe you a lot now, don't I? -SH

You: Yep. But we can talk about that another time.  You heading back to my flat? - MH

Stranger: Just got back. -SH

You: Okay, clean up. Don't want any evidence to follow you back to my flat. Be there soon and we can tell Mycroft. - MH. Molly finished cleaning up and entering her report. She headed home, knowing that the next thing she had to tell Sherlock was not good news. She had gotten a text from John and he had decided when to have the funeral.

\---------------------------------------------

Stranger: Sherlock stood behind some trees, far enough back that no one could see him, but close enough that he could hear everything. He risked a lot coming here, and he knew it, but he had to come. Something in him made him come. He wanted to see John... He waited as Molly went up on the small stage that sat there, going to the mic.

You: Molly cleared her throat and spoke into the microphone to the small gathering near Sherlock's grave.  
"I'm Molly and John has asked me to say a few things on his behalf." She picks up a small piece of paper and reads from it, her head down.  
"Sherlock, you were the most brilliant man I've ever met. You were also the most human. You claimed never to have a heart or emotions but I saw them shining from your face every time we helped a client or solved another case. Before I met you, I was lost and wandering and you showed me the way back. You showed me life again. I will never forget everything you did for me and I will never forget you. I will always believe in you." Molly wiped tears from her eyes as she stepped down, giving John a small smile.

Stranger: John didn't look up. Even from where he was sitting, Sherlock saw his shoulders rising and falling heavily. His heart dropped as he saw John stand, head down, and walk away from the crowd.

You: John didn't hear what everyone else had to say. He merely watched as first Mycroft, then Lestrade, then Mrs. Hudson got up to speak about Sherlock. Right now, he just wanted this to be a dream. He wished right now that he was sitting in Baker Street arguing with Sherlock over another case. He sighed with a small relief as the group broke up and left him standing alone. He walked back to the onyx gravestone and placed a hand on the top of it.

Stranger: Sherlock moved to another spot, getting a better view of John and still staying out of sight. He had an overwhelming urge to run to him.

You: John cleared his throat and spoke directly to the stone as if he were addressing Sherlock.  
"You brilliant bastard, you had to go and do it, didn't you. You had to go and leave me behind again. What was the whole point of it? Why did you make me watch?" John's voice broke as he spoke the last sentences, anger and sorrow flooding his tone.  
"You know, I would have helped you. Anything you asked, I would have helped. And now you're gone and it's too late but I still need to say it. I love you, Sherlock. And with all the mad things I've seen you do, do one more for me. Stop being dead. Just... just stop this and come back to me."

Stranger: Sherlock stood a little taller in the bushes, watching John. Had he heard him correctly? Did he just say he... loved him?

You: John gave the stone one final pat as silence was his only answer. He felt tears start to overflow his eyes and snapped into a military stance. No crying at attention, after all. He stared at the name of his friend until the blurriness cleared. He turned crisply and walked out of the cemetery, not allowing the limp from the pain in his leg to show.

Stranger: Sherlock turned and went back to Molly's flat, not being able to take it anymore. He looked over his shoulder as he left. "I love you too, John. I'll be back soon..." And with that, he left.

\-------------------------------------------

You: A few weeks after the death of the first sniper, Mycroft stood outside Molly's door and knocked on it.

Stranger: Molly answered the door, looking at Sherlock as she did.

You: "Hello Molly, Sherlock," Mycroft greeted them as he walked in the door. "Belated congratulations on taking out the first sniper. Though I do ask, couldn't you have done something a little less.... spur of the moment with him?"

Stranger: "Not really, seeing it was spur of the moment." Sherlock said boredly

You: Mycroft shook his head tiredly at his brother and perched on the armchair across from the couch. "What I meant was, couldn't you have called me so I could help you set up a better-staged death? This one took some tap dancing to cover up." Mycroft nodded his head at Molly

Stranger: "I had to do it then. He was just called off his job and it was either then or never." Sherlock sat up on the couch to better glare at his brother.

You: Mycroft raised his hands consolingly and said, "All right, all right. But do try to have a little more finesse next time, dear brother. If Molly hadn't been called in to autopsy him, your whole plan might have unraveled right there."

Stranger: "I know... But Lestrade is safe now. Does that mean nothing to you?" Sherlock glared at him.

You: "It means everything, Sherlock," Mycroft replied, a bite entering his tone. "But your safety concerns me as well. I don't want to see all this work ruined because you were impatient."

Stranger: "I know!" Sherlock took a deep breath. "I'm sorry... But I just... Want to save John..."

You: "And I understand that," Mycroft said quietly. "All I'm urging is a little caution in the future. I hope that this was a one-time occurance."

Stranger: "It was..." Sherlock nodded. "Any new information on other snipers?"

You: A beep sounded in the room and Mycroft grinned ferally. "Perhaps there is your answer. Let me check my phone." He pulled out his phone and frowned in surprise when he saw Lestrade's number.

Stranger: Lestrade paced his flat, bored out of his mind and waiting for Mycroft to text back. He really needed his boyfriend to come over that night. Work had been horrible with some really impossible cases and he had to deal with Anderson most of the day.

You: I'm at Molly's. What did you need, love? - MH

Stranger: I need you. Why are you at Molly's?? -GL

You: She wanted to talk for a bit. She had another case a few weeks ago, a jumper, and it all just hit her. - MH

Stranger: You seem to spend a lot of time at her place... -GL

You: I was one of the few people close to Sherlock. She says it helps her to talk about him. Is something the matter? - MH

Stranger: Nothing... -GL

You: I can tell you're lying, even through text. Talk to me, Greg. What's wrong? - MH

Stranger: I'm not telling. -GL

You: Please? I want to help if I can. - MH

Stranger: No. Just forget it. -GL

You: I don't want to forget it this time. I've let it go before but I'm really worried. Please, will you just let me in? - MH

Stranger: Why? Apparently Molly's already letting you in. Why do you need me to too? -GL

You: Greg, are you jealous? I'm only here because Molly called me, sobbing that she didn't want to be alone. - MH

Stranger: She could have called anyone else in the bloody world! You guys spend so much time together anyways!! -GL

You: Why are you so worried? I've told you I'm not leaving you. And I wouldn't leave you for Molly. She's not my type. - MH

Stranger: I don't like it, Mycroft. You guys get together every day. We see each other maybe once every two or three now. When ever I text you, your at Molly's. -GL

You: I am sorry. I can remedy that if you like. A simple phone call could have your shift changed early. - MH

Stranger: I wish it were that easy. -GL

You: Why wouldn't it be? The superintendant owes me a favor. - MH

Stranger: If you could do that, great. But that doesn't solve the problem of you and Molly handing out every day -GL

You: I worry for her as well as John. Molly is a far more fragile person and doesn't want to burden John. - MH

Stranger: Lestrade had enough of this. He knew Molly wasn't a fragile person all that much. He stood and locked up his flat, hailing a cab and heading to Molly's.

You: No more texts came through his phone and Mycroft placed it back in his pocket. "Anthea is still looking for the other two snipers," he explained. "No more information yet."

Stranger: "Well, what do you think I should do? That phone information was unless. All the numbers were unregistered." Sherlock leaned back.

You: "We are still trying to follow the information given to their respective landlords by the assassins that moved in near your flat," Mycroft explained. "Two are dead, one is living in America, and the other is unnaccounted for. We believe that last one to be the sniper assigned to kill Mrs. Hudson."

Stranger: "And John's? Any ideas with that?" Sherlock asked, leaning back.

You: Mycroft sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "All I have found is a name: Sebastian Moran. He is ex-military and the man is a ghost. He has no trail though he was the right-hand man of Moriarty."

Stranger: Sherlock sighed and looked around the flat. A knock on the door sounded through the flat. "Were you expecting someone else, Molly?" Sherlock asked, standing.

You: "No, I wasn't," Molly whispered, fear crossing her face. "Hurry, down into the basement!" Molly waved at the door to the basement as she stood to answer the door.

Stranger: Sherlock hurried over to the door and opened it, slipping inside and closing it almost silently. He pressed his ear to the door, not daring turning on a light, and listened.

You: Molly opened the door a crack and peered out. When she saw Lestrade's face, she opened it further with a smile saying, "Greg, what are you doing here?"

Stranger: "Where's Mycroft?" Lestrade growled.

You: "I'm here, Greg," Mycroft said from the armchair. He watched as Lestrade brushed past Molly and gave her a quick warning glance.

Stranger: "Yeah, Molly really looks upset!" Lestrade growled, anger rising in him. "You bloody lied to me?!"

You: "She was upset," Mycroft answered, holding a hand up when Molly's mouth opened. "We talked and she's doing better now."

Stranger: "How was the jumper Molly? Huh?" Lestrade turned to Molly.

You: "Jumper?" Molly asked, her head tilting to the side. "Which one?"

Stranger: "Today, the one you did a report for?"

You: "Oh, it was horrible," Molly said, picking up a cookie and fidgeting with it. "He jumped from 5 stories up."

Stranger: "Really? What was his name?" Lestrade took a step closer to her.

You: "H... His name?" Molly said nervously. "Why do you want to know?"

Stranger: "Tell me. His name." Lestrade growled.

You: "It was, ah, Michael Roarke," Molly stammered, backing away from the fury in Lestrade's eyes. "Why does it matter, Greg?"

Stranger: "What did he look like?" Lestrade took another step towards her. "Tell me!"

You: "He... he was blond with gray eyes.... tall," Molly muttered. She had never been good at lying. Edging her way around Lestrade, she fled into the kitchen.

Stranger: "You bloody lied to me!" Lestrade turned back to Mycroft, eyeing him madly.

You: "Why do you say that?" Mycroft asked idly. He studied Lestrade's eyes and was surprised at the amount of anger evident there.

Stranger: "Stop with the fucking games, Mycroft! I thought I could trust you!" Lestrade raised his voice, tears threatening to break loose.

You: "You can trust me, Greg," Mycroft replied, his voice quiet. "I'm not playing games with you. I'm sorry."

Stranger: "You know how many people told me that? Every single one of my ex-wives! 'I'm not playing games... I'm not cheating...' It's always the same thing! I thought you would be different!" Lestrade yelled, feeling the tears balling up in his eyes.

You:  Mycroft stood slowly and walked towards Lestrade. He took one of the DI's hands in his, noting the tremors. Anger or fear? He wondered. "Greg, please sit down."

Stranger: "No. Get off me!" Lestrade pulled his hand from Mycroft's grip, backing away a little. "I'm done with the pain... I want you to tell me the truth right now, Mycroft! Were you cheating on me?!" Tears flowed down the DI's cheeks and he avoided Mycroft's eyes.

You: "I'm not cheating on you. I will never do that to you," Mycroft asserted. "I don't want to hurt you right now. And that is the truth."

Stranger: "Then tell me why you're really here..." Lestrade's voice was small, barely above a whisper.

You: "I can't," Mycroft whispered, his voice breaking. "I can't tell you why I'm here but I will tell you its not what you think. I'm not here for a relationship with Molly."

Stranger: "Why? Why can't you tell me?" Lestrade tried to keep his voice level, but failed horribly. Tears broke his voice and he looked down.

You: Mycroft felt his heart break within his chest. This was the last thing he wanted to do to Lestrade, the last thing he ever wanted him to feel. "I'm sorry, it's not my secret to tell," Mycroft said.

Stranger: "Then... I'm going to leave..." Lestrade cried. "Don't talk to me..." A creak of a door was heard on the other side of the room. "Mycroft's right... It wasn't his secret to tell... It's mine." Sherlock spoke up, walking out of the door.

You: "Sh... Sher.... Sherlock?" Lestrade stammered, staggering. He had believed the man dead and gone, had grieved at John's side. "What? How... How are you even alive? The autopsy...."

Stranger: "Greg... Sit down, we have a lot to explain..." Sherlock walked over to Mycroft's side.

You: "I don't want to sit down," Lestrade argued. "I want you to tell me what the hell is going on here! You were dead!"

Stranger: "It was all a trick... I faked my death." Sherlock put a hand on Lestrade's shoulder, seeing his staggering. "Please.. can you sit down so we can explain?"

You: Lestrade allowed Sherlock to lead him to the couch and he sank bonelessly down onto it. He gaped at Sherlock and Mycroft, his brain still having problems processing this. "Wait, then you need to tell John!" Lestrade cried. "He loves you. He needs you."

Stranger: "I can't do that Greg... It could... kill him." Sherlock looked at Mycroft slowly.

You: "Why?" Lestrade asked. "And why wait so long to tell me this? Wait, Mycroft, is this why you've been coming over here so often?"

Stranger: "Yes... I'm afraid so. I would have told you," Mycroft continued, "but if I did... You could have been killed. Moriarty left snipers on you, John, and Mrs. Hudson. If they get one word that Sherlock is still alive, they were ordered to kill you all. Your sniper is dead; Eric? He wasn't a new member in your division, he was sent to kill you. Sherlock killed him the other week. You're safe, that's the only reason we can tell you all of this." Mycroft finished, sitting down next to Lestrade and taking his hand in his. "Please, understand?"

You: "Eric, a sniper? What the hell? And why was he assigned to me?" Lestrade said, shaking his head. He allowed Mycroft to take his hand, intertwining his fingers with the other man's. "And Sherlock, you faked your death to protect us?"

Stranger: "I had to..." Sherlock said, sadly looking at their hands, wishing nothing more then to hold John's, as stupid as it was. "I had to save you guys... and it was the only way..."

You: "You really do care..." Lestrade said wonderingly. He clapped Sherlock on the shoulder with his free hand and smiled. "Thank you. And I understand, Mycroft, why you couldn't tell me. Thank you for putting my safety first. But what do we do now?"

Stranger: "I need to find the last two snipers... As soon as I do, I can take them out and go back to Jo... Normal life..." Sherlock caught himself from his daydream.

You: Lestrade smiled knowingly at him, understanding that Sherlock was still uncomfortable talking about John. "So what information do you have already? Maybe I can help."

Stranger: "All we have are some phone records... But they aren't much help seeing all the numbers are unlisted." Sherlock said, handing Lestrade an envelope that sat on the table with all the papers they had collected.

You: "Let me run the numbers," Lestrade said. "With the databases I have access to, I may be able to find something you weren't able to." He glanced through the numbers, wondering if he would recognize any. Then, he found one he did. "Hey, this is the number of one of the witnesses from Janus Cars," he exclaimed.

Stranger: "Oh, really?" Mycroft bent closer to look it over, his hip brushing Lestrade's. "Do you remember who?"

You: "I think his name was... Jonathan Smith," Lestrade murmured, his body heating as Mycroft brushed against him. "He owned the dealership. Maybe he knows something about the snipers?"

Stranger: "Perfect! But how do we find out?" Sherlock asked. "We can't just walk in asking about it."

You: "Why not?" Lestrade asked. "You could ask him about Eric. Claim he was a jumper and had this man listed in his emergency contacts."

Stranger: "That may work..." Sherlock sat back, thinking.

You: "Well, now that I know my lover isn't cheating on me and we've worked this out, I'm exhausted," Lestrade said, standing. "I'm going to go home and get some sleep."

Stranger: Mycroft grabbed him from standing and pulled him into a kiss. Sherlock looked away, sadly. As they broke apart, Mycroft looked deep into Lestrade's eyes. "Hang around and you can just come home with me." Mycroft smiled and kissed Lestrade again.

You: "All right, but hurry," Lestrade said. "I don't think I can stay awake for long, Mycroft." He sank back down onto the couch and yawned.

Stranger: Sherlock looked back, fighting the sadness back down to an unreadable level on his face. "You two should just go. You don't need to be here any longer. We can finish up tomorrow..."

You: "Are you sure, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked, glancing sharply at his brother. He could read the sadness Sherlock tried to hide and sighed. Oh, that would be why. He stood again and pulled Lestrade up next to him. "As soon as I have more information, I will let you know," Mycroft said.

Stranger: "Sounds good. Greg, here's my new number. Text me if needed and -only- when needed. We have to be careful... Send any new information and whatnot. Also, don't put me in under 'Sherlock', add a different name. Goes for you too, Mycroft." Sherlock said, handing Lestrade a piece of paper he jotted his number on.

You: "All right," Lestrade said affably. "I'll run these numbers tomorrow. See you later, Sherlock. I really am happy to see you alive." With that, he linked his arm with Mycroft's and walked out of the flat, waving to Molly on the way.

Stranger: As the door closed, Molly came back into the living room. "We told him," Sherlock said, at her confused look.

You: "How did he take it?" Molly asked sympathetically. She had no idea how she'd react if someone she cared about came back from the dead.

Stranger: "Pretty well, he didn't faint or anything." Sherlock smirked at her.

You: "Well, good," Molly said, smiling. "Mycroft lying to him and making me lie to him was not helping. Is he going to help us?"

Stranger: "Yes, he's going to run the numbers through the system tomorrow. He also gave me a lead to check out."  Sherlock went over to the window.

You: "Excellent," Molly said. "I'm assuming that means you're going to run out again?"

Stranger: "Tomorrow, yes." Sherlock began pacing. "I can't wait til this is over."

You: "I know and I bet John wishes you were alive," Molly said, a tear falling from her eyes. "Did you hear what I read at the funeral? He meant every word."

Stranger: "I heard, yes... I also heard him... when he was at my grave... He spoke to it." Sherlock said, stopping and looking at her sadly.

You: "What did he say after?" Molly asked quietly. Her heart skipped at the sadness in Sherlock's eyes.

Stranger: "He told it... He told me... That he..." Sherlock paused and took a deep breath. "He told me.. He loved me..." Sherlock sank onto the couch, his heart pounding in his chest again, tears burning behind his eyes.

You: "Oh, Sherlock, I'm so sorry," Molly murmured, sinking down onto the couch next to him and wrapping an arm around his shoulders.

Stranger: "I... I love him, Molly..." Sherlock choked out before the tears overcame him.

You: Molly held the sobbing Sherlock close, her own tears falling now. "It's ok, it'll be ok," Molly repeated mindlessly, trying to soothe the distraught detective.

Stranger: Sherlock pulled himself together. He sat up and brushed away the tears running down his face. "I love him..." He said again, before standing and going to the basement, closing the door behind him, leaving Molly alone on the couch.

You: "I hope you can make it through this, Sherlock," Molly muttered to the empty air. "For his sake and yours." No longer feeling hungry, Molly decided to call it a night and went to her room to sleep.

\-------------------------------------

Stranger: Lestrade stumbled into Mycroft's house, his body still numb from the undead Sherlock. "Want to go straight to sleep?" Lestrade asked, stripping his own coat off.

You: "Unless you had other plans?" Mycroft asked, one eyebrow arching at the DI. He shrugged out of his own coat and hung it and Lestrade's in the foyer.

Stranger: "I was seeing if you did." Lestrade looked at him with a tired look on his face.

You: "You look so exhausted, love," Mycroft said tenderly. "Any other plans I may have had can wait. Let's go to bed."

Stranger: Lestrade smiled and took Mycroft's hand, leading him to the bedroom.

You: Mycroft followed, surprised that Lestrade already knew the layout of his house. Though, on second thought, maybe it wasn't so surprising. He was a detective after all. He smiled as Lestrade turned, heat flaring in his eyes.

Stranger: "On second thought..." Lestrade said, pulling Mycroft in closer. "...Kiss me..." Lestrade said, nipping at Mycroft's neck.

You: "Gladly," Mycroft growled before tangling his hands in Lestrade's hair and tipping his head back. He licked into the DI's mouth hungrily, exploring every inch of it and revelling in the taste.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled Mycroft back, falling onto the bed and pulling Mycroft down on him. Quickly, he started on the buttons of Mycroft's shirt.

You: "Hurry, love," Mycroft said, his hands running underneath Lestrade's shirt and over the warm flesh beneath.

Stranger: "I'm trying." Lestrade growled, tearing the shirt open the last couple buttons. He ripped it from Mycroft's shoulders and feverishly pulled him closer.

You: Mycroft swiftly slid the DI's shirt over his shoulders and head, throwing it on the floor behind him. He leaned down and nibbled at his collarbone then traced the muscles of his chest.

Stranger: Lestrade gasped, feeling all the heat leave his body and run to his crotch, leaving goosebumps on his skin. He bit his own lip and inclined his head to let Mycroft have a better angle.

You: Mycroft took the opening and moved up to kiss and bite at Lestrade's neck. He sucked gently at the soft skin under his jaw and grinned when the DI moaned.

Stranger: Lestrade reached down to Mycroft's hips, running his hands in slowly, cupping Mycroft through the fabric. He moaned as he felt Mycroft hiss into his skin, biting it gently.

You: Impatient now, Mycroft undid Lestrade's pants and slid them off. He cupped the warm erection and chuckled darkly. "Nothing underneath here? Were you thinking of me when you dressed this morning?"

Stranger: "Shut up." Lestrade hissed and squeezed Mycroft's length just hard enough. He reached down and bit Mycroft's ear.

You: "God, Greg, what you do to me," Mycroft hissed. He stroked down Lestrade, pressing hard with his fingers. He leaned up and licked into Lestrade's mouth again, lips mashing together hungrily.

Stranger: "Yes, 'cause you're the innocent one." Lestrade chuckled against his lips, starting on Mycroft's pants button with his free hand.

You: Mycroft sat up, allowing Lestrade to undo his pants and then take them off. The pants landed somewhere near Lestrade's shirt and Mycroft ranged himself over Lestrade again, wrapping the man's legs around his waist.

Stranger: Lestrade pressed his hips into Mycroft, emitting a strange sound from his throat at the friction. "God... Mycroft.... Love...." Lestrade moaned.

You: "Yes, Greg?" Mycroft asked slyly. He slid his hand between them, one finger penetrating deep into Lestrade. He swallowed the moan by kissing him again.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned into Mycroft's mouth, pulling his hips down onto him. He couldn't take the tease. "God... Just... do it..." Lestrade moaned.

You: "Gladly, love," Mycroft growled. He removed his fingers and lined his throbbing erection up with Lestrade's entrance. Bucking his hips forward, Mycroft entered the detective and buried himself to the hilt. "God... you are so tight," he murmured.

Stranger: Lestrade could only moan in reply. He bit his knuckle to quiet the moans as the pain and pleasure danced around inside him.

You: "Don't stay quiet," Mycroft urged him. "Make noises for me, Greg." He pumped his hips faster, pulling Lestrade tight against his chest.

Stranger: Lestrade bit his knuckle a little harder, the iron taste of blood covering his palate. He let go and leaned his head on Mycroft's shoulder, moaning pathetically.

You: "Good, love," Mycroft hissed, grabbing Lestrade's arms and holding them above his head. "I don't want you biting yourself." He kissed Lestrade again, tasting the warm coppery taste of his blood.

Stranger: "S-sorry..." Lestrade choked, throwing his head to one side in a moan.

You: Mycroft nodded and buried his head in the crook of Lestrade's neck. His hips pumped faster, deeper, a groan pulled from his mouth. "I love being inside you," Mycroft growled. "You are so warm and tight and take me so deep. I love you, Greg."

Stranger: Lestrade whimpered at the words that pulled on his heart strings. "I love you too... Mycroft... God..." Lestrade looked deep into Mycroft's eyes, both of them full of the pain and pleasure that seemed to wrap them together. An invisible knot binding them together. Making them dance on the same note.

You: Mycroft lost himself in Lestrade's eyes, drowning in the deep pools. He could feel the tightening in his belly that signalled his orgasm was approaching. Leaning down, he claimed Lestrade's lips again, thrusting in with his tongue.

Stranger: Lestrade felt the pulse in Mycroft's stomach. He felt the irregular breathing and tightening of muscles. He bit Mycroft's lip and tugged at it, knowingly. He ran his tongue over the bite mark and grinned, feeling the tightening of his stomach deepen. He was close, he knew it.

You: "God, Greg, I'm coming," Mycroft moaned, exploding deep inside Lestrade. He held Lestrade close to him, running his hands over his skin.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned as he released himself onto Mycroft's stomach, feeling the warm liquid run between them and connect them even more. Lestrade ran his hands down to Mycroft's ass and squeezed it, riding out his orgasm. He dug his nails into Mycroft, screaming his name.

You: Mycroft grinned ferally as he heard Lestrade screaming. He bit his neck again, leaving a red mark. "You're mine," Mycroft whispered, running his hands down Lestrade's sides.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled weakly. "We need to shower again..." Lestrade tried to sit up.

You: "If we do, I won't be able to refrain from taking you again," Mycroft said, keeping his arms wrapped around Lestrade. "You are delectable soaking wet."

Stranger: "I won't allow you to take me again." He smiled. "It would be my turn."

You: "Now that sounds like a wonderful plan," Mycroft said. He slowly slipped out of Lestrade and stood from the bed. He smiled down at Lestrade, lying across his bed looking debauched, then pulled him up. "Lead the way, love," Mycroft whispered.

Stranger: Lestrade kissed Mycroft deeply again and dragged him to the bathroom, pulling Mycroft on top of him against the door.

You: Mycroft pushed Lestrade into the door, pressing against his body. Every inch of his skin vibrated at the touch and he could feel both of them hardening again. He kissed Lestrade deeply, plundering his mouth.

Stranger: "Get the water going..." Lestrade hummed at Mycroft as he searched his body with his hands, feeling every curve.

You: "In a second," Mycroft answered, his hands trailing up Lestrade's thighs. He pressed gently just underneath his erection then stepped away. He turned the water on and waited until it warmed.

Stranger: Lestrade couldn't wait, he pulled Mycroft up and pushed him into the cold water, pressing him firmly into the wall and letting the freezing water run over their heads.

You: Mycroft hissed at the cold water then at the warmth of Lestrade's body pressed against his. "Greg, please...." Mycroft groaned, one hand reaching back to cup Lestrade's hip.

Stranger: "What is it, love?" Lestrade whispered teasingly into Mycroft's ear.

You: "I want you inside me," Mycroft whispered back, his eyes closing. "Please."

Stranger: "Not yet.." Lestrade teased, palming Mycroft's length.

You: "God.... Greg... such a tease," Mycroft moaned, his hips thrusting into the cool tiles.

Stranger: "Look who's catching on." Lestrade smiled as he bit Mycroft's ear.

 

You: Mycroft groaned and bit his lip, a growl vibrating in his chest. He wanted more but knew he would get only as much as Lestrade wanted as fast as he wanted.

Stranger: "You okay, love?" Lestrade smiled.

You: "Other than wanting you, yes," Mycroft replied, turning his head to look into Lestrade's eyes. "I need you inside me."

Stranger: "Want, or need?" Lestrade traced Mycroft's lower lip with his thumb.

You: "Both, love," Mycroft replied, sucking Lestrade's thumb into his mouth and caressing it with his tongue. He saw the man's eyes darken with lust and he could tell Lestrade was imagining Mycroft's tongue on his erection.

Stranger: Lestrade stared straight into Mycroft's eyes, covering them in deep, loving lust. He wanted him, there was no doubt in his mind. Slowly, he removed his thumb from Mycroft's mouth and bent down in front of him. His erection was facing him square in the face and he gently licked the tip, enjoying the hiss of pleasure he got in response. Lestrade grabbed Mycroft's hips, digging in his nails so slightly, and pulled him close, letting his mouth caress the man's length in his mouth.

You: Mycroft groaned and fisted his hands into Lestrade's hair. Reminding himself not to press too hard, he guided the DI's head further onto his erection. "More, please," Mycroft begged.

Stranger: Lestrade grinned and pressed farther down, his tongue rubbing the tip still, finding the hole and pressing on it gently.

You: "Mmmf, Greg...." Mycroft hissed, his eloquence disappearing under the DI's onslaught. He locked his knees, feeling his legs start to tremble.

Stranger: Lestrade felt Mycroft tense. "Relax darling." Lestrade said, letting go for a moment, kissing the tip. He slid it slowly back into his mouth and started to caress the whole thing with his tongue, feeling every vein in it, every inch.

You: Mycroft's hips pumped slowly into Lestrade's mouth, forcing his length into and out of the DI's mouth. He moaned again, his fingers caressing down to the nape of Lestrade's neck.

Stranger: Lestrade melted at the touch, he gasped slightly and let his teeth skim the tender skin of Mycroft's length.

You: "Greg," Mycroft screamed, throwing his head back. His hips moved faster, driving further down Lestrade's throat. He could feel the growl starting deep in his chest, sounding his pure, wanton pleasure.

Stranger: Lestrade let his hand slide back and grasp Mycroft's ass again. He chuckled as Mycroft gasped and pressed farther back into the tiles.

You: "Please, Greg, I need you inside me," Mycroft muttered. "I want your fingers inside me while you're sucking me."

Stranger: Lestrade smirked and quickly ran two fingers around Mycroft's entrance, slowly, he pushed both in.

You: "Yes," Mycroft hissed, spreading his legs apart. He pumped his hips in a wider arc, pushing himself deep into Lestrade's mouth and Lestrade's fingers further inside him. He groaned at the dual sensations, gripping hard at Lestrade's hair.

Stranger: Lestrade pushed a third finger in, circling them all inside of him. He chuckled and pressed his tongue to Mycroft's hole again, his teeth nibbling lightly on Mycroft's length. The slight saltiness filled Lestrade's mouth as a small amount of come escaped Mycroft with a groan.

You: Panting, Mycroft looked down at Lestrade and took in the sight of his erection sliding between the DI's lips. He groaned and felt his orgasm bubble out at the sight. Lestrade's fingers plunged deep inside him, finding the most sensitive spot and Mycroft screamed Lestrade's name.

Stranger: Lestrade could feel himself getting painfully hard between his legs. He moved his free hand down and started stroking himself in time with his mouth on Mycroft. He gasped and closed his eyes, giving Mycroft a long, loving suck.

You: Mycroft stood panting, Lestrade sucking him through his orgasm. He groaned again at the sight of the DI palming himself and slid out of his mouth. "Let me," Mycroft whispered, kneeling in between Lestrade's legs.

Stranger: Lestrade gasped and laid down in the shower, letting the chilled water hit his stomach. He pulled his fingers out slowly and spread his legs. He was already panting, in fear of just the perfect touch from Mycroft to get him to stop breathing all together

You: Mycroft laid on his stomach, his head inches from Lestrade's erection. He gently licked the head, running his tongue in circles and dipping into the small hole. Then, without warning, he bobbed forward and slid the entire length down his throat.

Stranger: Lestrade screamed Mycroft's name as the warmth surrounded him all of a sudden, pleasure shooting through him like lightning. He slammed his head back, hitting it on the tile. He hissed from Mycroft again, pumping his hips, not letting the pain in his head register.

You: Mycroft hummed in pleasure at the noises Lestrade was making, feeling it vibrate along the man's erection. He started moving faster, licking the underside with his tongue. He brought his other hand up and slid it between Lestrade's thighs, teasing his entrance.

Stranger: Lestrade growled in pleasure. He couldn't take the pleasure, it was building inside of him. He felt like a bomb, ready to explode himself into Mycroft. He pumped his hips, moaning Mycroft's name.

You: Sucking harder, Mycroft slid one finger inside Lestrade and curled it. He could feel the twitching jerks that told him Lestrade couldn't hold on much longer. He pressed in deeply and swirled his tongue against veins in Lestrade's erection.

Stranger: Lestrade screamed Mycroft's name as he let go. He panted and arched his back into Mycroft, pushing his length farther into Mycroft's throat.

You: Mycroft grinned around Lestrade as he tasted the salty liquid. Sucking gently, he carried the DI through his orgasm. After a final soft kiss on the head of Lestrade's length, Mycroft slid his finger out and sat back. He stared at Lestrade, pleased to see the man completely undone underneath him.

Stranger: "G-god..." Lestrade moaned. "S-so much for m-me taking y-you..." He let a small smile dance on his lips.

You: "Oh, you did love," Mycroft chuckled. "But I had to taste you when I saw you stroking yourself. You'll have to do that for me again sometime." He grinned at the look of hunger that crossed Lestrade's face. "But not right now. We should probably clean up now," Mycroft finished.

Stranger: Lestrade forced himself to sit up and lean against the wall, panting. "I love you, Mycroft." Lestrade smiled at him.

You: "I love you too, Greg," Mycroft replied with a mirroring smile. He slowly got to his feet, drawing Lestrade up beside him and cleaned them both thoroughly under the now-warm water.

Stranger: Lestrade ran his soapy hands around Mycroft's hips, rubbing the come off him in slow, loving circles. He kissed Mycroft softly as he moved in and cleaned his now-limp length. He smiled as he removed his hands and pulled back from the kiss.

You: "You ready to sleep now?" Mycroft asked, shutting of the water. He dried Lestrade off first, running the towel gently over his skin. He followed with his fingers, brushing every curve and angle.

Stranger: "Very, as long as I get to sleep with you." Lestrade smiled knowingly.

You: "Of course," Mycroft smiled back. "I want you nowhere else." He led the way back into his bedroom and pushed Lestrade down on his bed. He crawled in next to the DI, wrapping him in his arms. "Good night, love. Sleep well," Mycroft murmured.

Stranger: "No kiss?" Lestrade chuckled. He snuggled into Mycroft's arms.

You: Chuckling, Mycroft captured his lips and kissed Lestrade senseless. He never dipped his tongue deeper than the man's teeth, purposely keeping the kiss light and sweet. "Better?" he asked, pulling back.

Stranger: "Yes..." Lestrade panted, smiling and kissing Mycroft's nose. "Night, my love."

You: They fell asleep, wrapped in each other's arms. Both felt comforted, safe, and home.

\---------------------end chapter 4---------------------------


	5. Relationship Disorderth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get a little... tense.

Watching You Fall chapter 5  
by *Black-Rose-117

\--------------Chapter 5---------------------

You: John sat in his armchair, staring blankly at the one across from him. Sherlock's armchair. Memories of the detective sitting with his knees drawn up to his chin yelling at the tv overwhelmed him. He started when a knock sounded at the door.

Stranger: "John?" Lestrade slowly cracked the door open and looked over at John. "Can I come in?"

You: "Greg, hi, sure," John said, gesturing for the DI to enter. "Sorry it's been a few weeks since I talked to you. Was difficult after the funeral."

Stranger: "I understand." Lestrade said, sitting down in Sherlock's old airchair. "How have you been?"

You: "Carrying on," John replied tiredly. He felt anger and sorrow coiling in his belly as Lestrade calmly claimed -his- chair. He fought it down and forced himself to smile. "How about you?"

Stranger: "It's been better since I've had Mycroft.." Lestrade said slowly.

You: "Yeah, I bet," John chuckled. "Honestly really never saw that coming. How'd you guys get together?"

Stranger: "Actually... He came in the hospital while you were out... He saw me and took me to lunch, saying I looked hungry and in need of a break." Lestrade blushed slightly. "I didn't want to leave you... but he kinda talked me into it."

You: John laughed again, a more honest sound. "That's all right," he told Lestrade. "Thanks for staying with me and I'm glad you found each other. You seemed a little happier in general at the funeral. How is Mycroft taking it?"

Stranger: "Better with every day." Lestrade smiled. "I won't bore you with details though."

You: "Bore me?" John asked dryly. "Bore away. I've got nothing to do. Was fired from the clinic after screaming a patient out of the room for claiming Sherlock got what he deserved."

Stranger: "He deserved it..." Lestrade said slowly, avoiding John's eyes. "I won't go too into detail still. He's just being a little more romantic, relaxing more. I think it's cute..."

You: "Mycroft, cute?" John said incredulously. "What have you done to him? Replaced him with a whole new person?" John laughed again, the image of Mycroft with a dozen red roses and a puppy dog face crossing his mind.

Stranger: "Luckily no." Lestrade blushed again, a more extreme shade taking over his features. "I guess I just... opened him up." Lestrade winked.

You: "All right and that's enough right there," John joked. "How are your cases going? Anything interesting?"

Stranger: "They seem to get harder and harder each day... but lately I've been getting lucky. Mostly just murders and such... Stuff that-" Lestrade cut off.

You: "Stuff that what?" John asked, pretty sure he knew what Lestrade was going to say. "You can say his name, you know. I won't fall apart."

Stranger: Lestrade shook his head, looking down. "I can't do that to you..." He said at length.

You: "I'm slowly coming to terms with the fact that he's gone," John said quietly. "It's been two months already. Even now, the sense of him is fading from the flat."

Stranger: "I still can't... I don't want to hurt you..." Lestrade said, his hands shaking slightly.

You: "All right," John replied. "Though it's kind of a relief to talk with someone who doesn't believe he was a liar. What brought you here today?"

Stranger: "Mycroft wanted me to check up on you. Plus I thought maybe you could use a lunch out?" Lestrade said, sending him a small smile.

You: John smiled back and nodded. "That sounds good," he replied. "I don't really have anyone who's willing to talk to me anymore. Everyone thinks I was either duped or in on everything." He stood stiffly, his leg aching, and threw on his coat. Grabbing his cane, he gestured to Lestrade to lead the way.

Stranger: "Your cane?" Lestrade asked, pointing at it and looking at John, worriedly. "Why? I thought your leg was all in your mind?"

You: "It is," John said sadly. "And Sherlock was the only one who could cure it. The limp came back just before the funeral." John turned blank eyes on Lestrade as he spoke Sherlock's name. Those eyes proved the lie that John told earlier. He truly wasn't all right.

Stranger: Lestrade's heart pinged. That look was what he wanted to avoid. "I'm sure it'll go away..." Lestrade said, placing a sorrowful hand on his friend's shoulder.

You: "Maybe," John replied. "It doesn't really matter anyways. I've gotten used to it again. Where are you wanting to go? Anywhere specific?"

Stranger: "What's your favorite place?" Lestrade asked, taking his hand from John's shoulder.

You: John sighed as he thought of his two favorite restaurants. There was no way he could walk into them anymore. Not without... -him-. "I don't really have one," John replied. "You offered so feel free to pick what you like."

Stranger: "You don't... have one?" Lestrade asked, a little skeptical. "You have to have one..."

You: "I used to..." John replied, the words dragged from his mouth. "They were places... -he-... took me to. I can't really go back."

Stranger: Lestrade mentally slapped himself. "I'm sorry... Want to just... go for pizza?"

You: "That sounds good, Greg," John said, a small smile crossing his face. "Lead the way."

Stranger: "Come on, I'll drive." Lestrade said, giving him a smile and leading him out with a hand on his back.

You: John walked downstairs slowly, his cane thumping on each step. Outside, he folded himself into Lestrade's car and stared out the window. His heart was hammering in his chest while at the same time it felt dead. John shook his head at the feeling; Sherlock would have called him an idiot.

Stranger: Lestrade groaned into the seat and closed the door. He put the key in but never started up the car; he just looked at John. He didn't know if he should say something or not. Sighing, he started the car and pulled out of the space.

You: John watched the streets flow by, his thoughts centering on Sherlock. As always. The man was never far from his thoughts and John often thought he saw him on the street. A long black coat, black curls, or just pale skin and John would stop and stare. But it never brought his friend back. The man he loved.

Stranger: He pulled into the a spot near the front door of the pizza place. Shutting off the car, he leaned back in his seat, seeing John still staring out of the window. "John?" He asked, unsure of what else to say.

You: "What?" John replied quietly, resting his head on the cool glass. His heart had stopped hammering and now felt empty in his chest. As if his heart was dead and buried. But it was, really, wasn't it? Just a few weeks ago.

Stranger: "A-are you ready?" Lestrade asked, placing his hands on his knees under the wheel. "Are you alright?"

You: "No, I'm not," John muttered, startled into a moment of honesty. "Everything hurts still, Greg. Moriarty said he'd burn Sherlock's heart but he really burned mine. And the worst part of it, I still see him. I still see him walking down the street, that bloody coat swirling around his legs."

Stranger: "John... Sherlock is..." Lestrade stopped himself. He wanted to tell John so bad. It was killing him to watch John like this. His heart couldn't take it. Sherlock was bloody alive. He was alive and in love with this man next to him, yet he was slowly killing him. What was he supposed to do in this situation?

You: "I know, he's dead," John chuckled darkly, his eyes still blank. "And all the wishing and hoping and praying isn't going to bring him back. I buried the man I loved and I never even told him."

Stranger: "Why didn't you tell him, John?" Lestrade asked, leaning back on his door.

You: John sighed and looked down at the cane next to him. "I was afraid and in denial," he explained sadly. "I believed I wasn't gay for so long when an exception came around I couldn't face it. I knew I cared for him a lot, I'd die for him. I'd kill for him. Did kill for him. But not until he died could I admit what I really felt."

Stranger: "John... I'm so sorry..." Lestrade shifted uncomfortably in his seat. "Is there anything I can... do? At all?"

You: "Just what we're doing I guess," John replied. "Get me out of the flat so I don't become a complete hermit. Maybe tell me about some cases, share a beer with me."

Stranger: "After lunch, do you wanna head to the bar?" Lestrade asked, trying to get the mood a little lighter.

You: "Yeah sounds like a plan," John laughed, trying to force cheer into his tone. He'd been pretending for so long, it felt like an old, comfortable coat. He got out of the car and waited politely for Lestrade to catch up to him.

Stranger: "Come on, let's go." Lestrade walked up to John and placed a hand on his shoulder.

\-----------------------------------------------------

You: John was sitting next to Lestrade at a table in the back of the bar, several empty glasses attesting to the fact that both were more than a little tipsy. "And the point ish.... ish.... well, the point ish the point," John muttered into his current pint. He giggled and heard Lestrade join him.

Stranger: "Tha's so deap." Lestrade giggled as he signalled for two more pints.

You: "Yesh, I know," John said, swaying a bit in his seat. "But it always ish, ya know. The point ish the point." He grabbed for the new round and started drinking it down.

Stranger: "You shem happy." Lestrade smiled stupidly.

You: "Yesh," John replied, smiling back. "Beer good." He raises the mostly empty pint and toasts in Lestrade's direction.

Stranger: Lestrade locked eyes with John and raised his glass to his. They clinked them together, sending beer flying everywhere. "To him!" Lestrade slurred, drinking.

You: "To him," John repeated quietly, downing the rest of his beer. He waved at the bartender and said, " 'Nother round." When the next set of drinks was placed on the table, he grabbed his and drank about half of it down.

Stranger:"You need to show down." Lestrade slurred at length. "Yer on te sevenish glath."

You: "Whoo caresh?" John asked. "Allsh I know ish, I'm happy now. Ajnd yoo look happy too."

Stranger: "I'm happee yer finallie shmiling." Lestrade giggled and sipped his drink, almost missing his mouth in his drunken state.

You: "Yesh and I shtopped sheeing ghostsh," John burbled, drinking more beer. "Ah'm shane again." He drained the seventh glass and signalled for more.

Stranger: "Joth, uh 'an't drink Sherlo'k away..." Lestrade struggled with the words.

You: "Can," John replied. "Doan even 'member what he looked like." John didn't notice the tear that ran down his face and drank deeply of the eighth glass placed on the table.

Stranger: "Yer crin'" Lestrade frowned then crawled around the bent seat and, on his hands and knees on the bench, whipped it away, his face close to John.

You: "I wash drinkin' that," John protested before his eyes were caught by Lestrade's. "Watchu doin'?

Stranger: "Yer crin'" Lestrade repeated. "I'm halpin'"

You: "How?" John asked, his fuzzy mind completely confused.

Stranger: "I wiped, it awah." Lestrade smiled, getting closer to John and sitting down so their hips touched, pulling his drink to him. "No moah tearth for Jotn." Lestrade giggled.

You: John giggled with him and laid his heavy head on Lestrade's shoulder. He sniffed and was reminded suddenly of Sherlock's smell. He turned his head into Lestrade's shoulder and drew in a deep breath. "S....Sherlock?" John asked wonderingly.

Stranger: "Nah." Lestrade giggled. "Sherlo'k ishn't here Jotn."

You: "Shmell like him," John muttered, wrapping an arm around Lestrade and pulling him close. He buried his head in Lestrade's neck and muttered, "Want him back."

Stranger: "Yer lipths tickl'" Lestrade giggled, pulling back and smiling at John, nuzzling his nose with his.

You: John stared at Lestrade, his face blurry at the proximity. His bleary eyes latched onto the features of Lestrade's face that matched with Sherlock's and suddenly, he could see the detective sitting in front of him. "Sher... Sherlock," John muttered, smiling. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Lestrade's.

Stranger: "Gahd." Lestrade muttered, getting back on his hands and knees and overtaking John, hovering over him on the bench and kissing him feverishly.

You: "Yoo came back to me," John muttered, pulling Lestrade into his lap so that the DI was straddling his thighs. He placed his hands on the sides of the DI's face and pulled him close, his tongue dipping into his mouth.

Stranger: "Ouh are an amathing kither." Lestrade moaned against John's mouth.

You: "Yoo too, Sherlock," John replied, tracing his tongue over Lestrade's lips. "Mished yoo, yoo bloody bashtard. Why'd yoo die on me?"

Stranger:"Nah. Sherlo'k ishn't here Jotn." Lestrade giggled, biting at John's lip, grinding his hips messily against John's in his drunken state.

You: "Shmell like him," John repeated, wrapping his arms around Lestrade's back. They both jumped when Lestrade's phone beeped from his pocket. "Wha'sh that?" John asked, confused.

Stranger: Lestrade struggled his phone out and looked at the screen. "Mikoft." Lestrade blinked at the screen.

You: "Wha'sh yer brother want?" John asked, still seeing Sherlock before him. He peered blearily at the phone in Lestrade's hand.

Stranger: Lestrade blinked at the phone. "Heth wansh to kno' wat wher doin'" Lestrade giggled. "I'll ather him lather." Lestrade placed his phone back onto the table and attacked John's lips with his.

You: John moaned against Lestrade's lips, losing himself in the kiss. He brought one hand up and placed it on Lestrade's chin, lightly pulling down to open the man's mouth. His tongue darted in and playfully licked at Lestrade's.

Stranger: Lestrade melted into John's grip. He began to grind his hips again, pressing all of his body into John's.

You: "Lesh go home, Sherlock," John whispered against Lestrade's lips. "I want yoo."

Stranger: "Plesh." Lestrade moaned. "Calth a texi." Lestrade stood and left with John, his phone going off on the table, completely forgotten.

You: They stood just outside the bar, trying to flag down a cab. When one finally decided to stop for the two drunk men, they tumbled in and giggled. "221b Baker Shtreet," John said to the cabby. The cabby turned forward and John immediately attacked Lestrade, his hand moving between the other man's legs.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned and attacked John's lips again. He moved his hips to get some friction on John's hand, moaning into John's lips. "I wath ew, Mikoft." Lestrade grumbled. "In meh."

You: "Gawh, Sherlock," John groaned against Lestrade's lips. "Want yoo sho bad." John moved his head down Lestrade's neck, biting and sucking. He shifted to straddle the man as best he could in the confined space of the cab.

Stranger: "Noth her." Lestrade giggled, gently pushing John back onto his seat. "In te bed."

You: "Doan wanna wait," John said sulkily, stroking Lestrade gently through his pants. "But Ah will, fer yoo." John smiled and withdrew his hand, taking Lestrade's in his own. Neither noticed the man standing with the umbrella outside the entrance to the flat as the cab pulled up.

Stranger: Lestrade dragged John out of the cab giggling and kissing him all over.

You: "Greg, what are you doing?" Mycroft's voice snapped out, distinctly displeased. He understood that they were drunk but it still hurt.

Stranger: "Woth tat?" Lestrade squinted in the rain, pulling John close and kissing his forehead.

You: "It's Mycroft," the man replied, stepping forward into the light. He placed a gentle hand on Lestrade's arm and pulled him from John's grip. John whimpered and said, "Doan take Sherlock... jus' got him back."

Stranger: "Jotn, I toth ew. I'm noth Sherlo'k." Lestrade giggled.

You: "Shmell like him," John repeated again with drunk logic. "Musht be him."

Stranger: Lestrade pulled from Mycroft's grip and went over to John. "Ewr so cute weth ewr poutin, Mikoft." Lestrade said, kissing John roughly.

You: Mycroft sighed and sent a quick text to Anthea. His ever-capable aid appeared a minute later and looked at him expectantly. "Please take John upstairs and settle him into bed or on the couch," Mycroft explained. Anthea nodded and took John's arm while Mycroft took Lestrade's.

Stranger: "Mikoft, why ew levin?" Lestrade called after John.

You: "Greg, look at me," Mycroft ordered, pulling Lestrade's face around to stare into his eyes. "I am Mycroft." He leaned forward and kissed Lestrade gently.

Stranger: "Mi... Mikoft?" Lestrade stuttered.

You: "Yes, Greg," Mycroft replied, leading the drunk DI back to Mycroft's car. He knew Anthea could find her own way home and directed the driver to head back to his house.

Stranger: "Ten whoo tat?" Lestrade asked, watching the building disappear behind him.

You: "That was John," Mycroft explained gently. "I'm assuming, with the amount of beer you both consumed, you were seeing who you wanted rather than who was really there." He pulled the DI out of the car and into the house. He led him into the bathroom and stripped Lestrade, pushing him into the shower.

Stranger: Lestrade's eyes grew wide. "Jotn? Mikoft, I'm show showwy." Lestrade struggled to stutter.

You: "It's ok, love," Mycroft said soothingly. "Let's get you cleaned up and into bed. I'm sure your hangover is going to hit you hard."

Stranger: "Er show forgivin'." Lestrade smiled.

You: "I know," Mycroft replied, smiling. "But we are going to talk in the morning." Mycroft helped Lestrade clean up in the shower, the DI leaning into him and babbling. Once he was done, Mycroft towelled Lestrade off and led him into the bedroom. They laid down, Lestrade's head pillowed against Mycroft's arm.

Stranger: "Tank you, Mikoft." Lestrade slurred, cuddling closer to Mycroft's arm.

You:  "You're welcome," Mycroft whispered. "Sleep now love. I'll send a message in to your superior in the morning." He brushed a lock of hair off Lestrade's face and closed his eyes.

\--------------------------------------

Stranger: John slumped onto the couch, giggling like an idiot and looking around. "Wer' did Sherlo'k go?" John smiled.

You: Anthea sighed and pulled John's shoes off. "Sherlock was never here, John," she said gently. "He's gone."

Stranger: "I wash jush kisshing him toh." John slurred.

You: "John, that wasn't Sherlock," Anthea tried to explain. "You were kissing Greg Lestrade. You just thought he was Sherlock." Grabbing a pillow patterned with the Union Jack, Anthea dropped it one one side of the couch. She maneuvered John over to it and helped him lay down, head on the pillow.

Stranger: "I wash?" John asked slowly, trying to sit up.

 

You: "Yes, and lie back down, John," Anthea said, pushing down on his shoulders. "I don't know if you'll remember this in the morning, but you need to sleep now." She took a blanket that was draped over the computer chair and spread it over John.

Stranger: John felt his heart sink. "It washn't Sherlo'k?"

You: "No, John," Anthea replied patiently. She sighed and decided to sit down. Apparently, it was going to take a lot of talking to convince John in his drunken state. "You were out drinking with Greg. You mentioned that he smelled like Sherlock right before you kissed him. I'm guessing you were seeing Sherlock and not Greg."

Stranger: "Gahd..." John muttered. "I kished Lestrade.... Mikoft whil kill meh." John covered his eyes with his hands and shook his head. "Hesh going tah kill meh.." He repeated.

You: "I doubt that," Anthea said soothingly. "He understands you're both grieving. And drinking as much as you two did didn't help. Just sleep, John. You need it."

Stranger: "Okah." John lowered his hands and closed his eyes, falling asleep almost instantly.

You: Anthea smiled slightly at the sleeping John and quietly walked out of the flat. She sent a quick text to Mycroft that John was asleep and called a car to take her to her own flat. She'd had a long day.

\---------------------------------------------------

Stranger: Lestrade moaned and turned slightly to where Mycroft should have been, noticing he wasn't there. He moaned again at the small movement.

You: "Greg, you awake?" Mycroft called from outside the bedroom. He walked in, a glass of water and tylenol in his hand. "Here, take these before we talk." He handed them to Lestrade and waited.

Stranger: Lestrade groaned and turned onto his back. "Talk?" He moaned, holding his head.

You: "Yes, talk," Mycroft replied. "About you and John getting drunk and kissing and groping."

Stranger: "God... I kissed John Watson..." Lestrade moaned into his hand. "I'm so sorry.... Mycroft I shouldn't and I... I..." Lestrade covered his face with a pillow, partly to hide his face, partly to keep the light out of his eyes that were overly bright.

You: "I know you're sorry," Mycroft said quietly. "It happened because you were drunk. I heard both of you. You thought he was me and he thought you were Sherlock. Apparently, you smelled like him. Did you tell John Sherlock was alive?"

Stranger: "I don't.. believe so... no." Lestrade moaned into the pillow.

You: "Good," Mycroft said decisively. "I believe from now on, if you go out drinking with John, you shouldn't drink so much. I don't want my brother's work to be ruined by an ill-timed drunk comment." He smiled to take most of the sting out of his words.

Stranger: Lestrade didn't see the smile due to the pillow. "I know... I know..." Lestrade said, Mycroft could tell he was crying under the pillow. "I could have ruined everything... I'm going to ruin everything.. Maybe I should just leave you all alone before I blow it all..."

You: Mycroft climbed into the bed with Lestrade and wrapped the man in his arms. Placing a gentle kiss on his forehead, Mycroft said, "You aren't going anywhere. It will be fine, you didn't ruin anything."

Stranger: "I might though..." Lestrade cried, clenching the pillow tighter. "What if I do?!"

You: "You won't," Mycroft told him. He gently removed the pillow and brushed kisses over his cheeks and lips. "You were falling down drunk last night and you didn't say a word. Just don't get that drunk again and you won't have to worry."

Stranger: "I won't... I promise... Mycroft, I'm so sorry...." Lestrade looked into his boyfriend's eyes, as his tear streaked eyes watered more.

 

You: "I know, love, I know," Mycroft soothed him. "I'm not angry with you even though it hurt. I understand that cheating wasn't your intent. You honestly did think it was me at the time."

Stranger: "I hurt you...? God, I hurt you.." Lestrade said slowly, his eyes watering and tears going down his cheeks again.

You: "Greg, please, don't cry," Mycroft whispered. "I didn't tell you that to make you feel guilty. I just don't want to lie to you. It did hurt, watching on the cameras but when I realized what was going on, I understood. I love you, you know. Just please don't do it again."

Stranger: "I won't... and I love you too, Mycroft. Can I have that water now? My throat hurts..." Lestrade sat up and moved closer to Mycroft, holding his head.

You: "Of course, love," Mycroft said, reaching for the water he had placed on the nightstand before lying down. He handed it to Lestrade, who drank about half of it down in one breath.

Stranger: "Thank you." Lestrade muttered, pulling the glass away for a quick breath, then finishing it in a quick gulp.

You: Mycroft put the glass back on the nightstand and pulled Lestrade back down onto the bed. "You need more sleep. Rest now," Mycroft whispered, pulling the blanket up over them both.

Stranger: "Just one favor?" Lestrade asked, looking at Mycroft through heavy eyelids.

You: "What's that?" Mycroft asked curiously, his eyes tracing the flecks of gray in the DI's blue eyes.

Stranger: "Don't leave me this time... Stay here with me." Lestrade whispered, smiling slightly.

You: "I'll stay until you wake," Mycroft promised. He watched with an answering smile on his face as Lestrade's eyes closed and he fell into a deep sleep.

\--------------------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: Lestrade jotted something on his notepad as he looked over the body that lay in the street. He paced the body some more, wishing desperately to call Sherlock.

You: John stared at his phone, the text mutely laughing at him. He needed to talk to Lestrade, explain what happened. But he was embarassed and ashamed. Finally, with a sigh, he hit the send button and waited.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled out his singing phone and looked at the screen. He was shocked to see John's name.

You: Greg, can we talk? I'm sorry about what happened a month ago. - JW

Stranger: I'm on a case. -GL

You: Well, it doesn't have to be now. What about later tonight? We can meet at that pizza place. - JW

Stranger: Lestrade sighed. He didn't really want to see John at the moment. Uh... I guess... -GL

You: Good. See you then. - JW

Stranger: 8? -GL

You: Sounds good. Again, I'm sorry and I know I'm probably the last person you want to see. - JW

Stranger: I just don't want to get awkward... -GL

You: I understand. I'll try to keep it short. - JW

Stranger: No, John... We need to get over this. -GL

You: Yeah, I don't want to lose you as a friend. - JW

Stranger: And I don't want to lose you. -GL

You: Well as long as we have that sorted. I'll let you go back to your case. Good luck. - JW

Stranger: Can you come help....? -GL

You: You want my help? I'm no Sherlock - JW

Stranger: I know, but you're just as smart. -GL

You: All right. I could use the distraction. Where are you? - JW

Stranger: Lestrade sent the address and waited for John, his heart pounding. He really didn't want to mess up and lose John. He didn't think either of them could handle it.

You: John went to the address as quickly as he could, curiousity eating at him. What could Lestrade need his help for? He got out of the cab and walked up to the DI, smiling hesitantly. "Hey, Greg," John said.

Stranger: "H-hey John." Lestrade forced a smile.

You: "So what do you need my help on?" John asked briskly, determined not to embarrass Lestrade in front of his subordinates.

Stranger: "Just... trying to find clue is all. Normal stuff. Can you help?" Lestrade asked, shifting on his feet.

You: "I can try," John replied honestly, looking down at the body. He studied the poor girl lying dead in the street. He could see that there wasn't enough blood around here for this to have been where she was killed. Also, all the stab wounds seemed to have a downward angle to them. The killer was probably taller than she was. He told all this to Lestrade and then waited while he analyzed it.

Stranger: "Looks like you've got something going here." Lestrade smiled at John, trying to be as normal as possible. "Got anything else?"

You: "She's still fairly warm," John replied. "Couldn't have been killed and dumped here too long ago." John tried to smile back, feeling fragile and shattered. How was he going to fix this?

Stranger: Lestrade nodded, looking down at the body. He shifted his weight on his feet again, not knowing what to say or do.

You: "So," John said, clearing his throat and looking around. "Anything else you need from me?" He clasped his hands behind his back, worrying at the fingers.

Stranger: "Not here... no..." Lestrade shrugged. He scratched the back of his head, avoiding John's eyes.

You: "All right," John said agreeably. "See you tonight? The pizza place?"

Stranger: "Yeah, sounds good..." Lestrade forced a smile. "I'll... um... call you if we find anything else out then?"

You: "Sure," John nodded at him and walked away. He knew much more interaction would break the stuttering peace between them and right now would be the worst time. He hailed a cab and went back to his flat, waiting for the clock to strike 8.

Stranger: Lestrade sighed as he watched John's cab pull away. It was all so awkward... Was there really anything they could do to patch the hole in their friendship? He ran a hand through his hair and leaned against a nearby police car, closing his eyes and dropping his head. Tonight was going to be hard...

You: John watched as the clock ticked over to 7:30 then slowly rose from his armchair. He grabbed his cane again and worked his way downstairs to hail a cab. He got out as it pulled up outside the pizza restaurant and walked inside.

Stranger: Lestrade parked his car in the lot and looked at the clock. 7:55. He was early. He had left his office early, having no work left to do that night. He sat back in his seat for a moment, taking a few deep breaths before getting out slowly and heading to the door.

You: John looked up as the door opened again. He saw Lestrade walk in and called out, "Greg, I'm over here."

Stranger: Lestrade heard him and walked over, forcing a smile as he sat. "Evening, John."

You: John didn't return his smile, unable to make his face listen to his mind as his stomach roiled. "Evening," John replied. "So, mind if I start?"

Stranger: "Please, do." Lestrade said, letting the smile slide off his face.

You: "All right," John took a deep breath and focused his gaze on his hands. He couldn't look at Lestrade while saying this. "I'm sorry, Greg. What happened was not what I wanted to happen. I remember smelling Sherlock and then I could see him. I missed him so much and it felt like he was back and it was a miracle. I couldn't let another second go by without kissing him, letting him know how I felt. I'm sorry it happened and I'll understand if you don't want to keep being friends."

Stranger: "John, listen. We were both drunk. You thought you saw Sherlock, someone you love, the -only- one you love. When you kissed me, it reminded me of Mycroft, your lips are just alike, soft and-" Lestrade stopped himself and shook his head, he shouldn't be talking about that. "Sorry... But, anyway, in our drunken state, we thought the other was the one exception in our lives. The people we love the most because we both resemble some trait of those people. It was a mistake, we both know that. We can't ignore it, but we have to fix it. I'm not letting you leave me as a friend, not because of something stupid like this." Lestrade looked up to see John was still avoiding his gaze.

You: "Only the Holmes'" John joked weakly, his voice sharp with something like bitterness. "Only they could make us do something like this." He finally raised his eyes to meet Lestrade's and said, "How do we fix this?"

Stranger: "I don't know..." Lestrade shook  his head slowly. "For one, no more getting drunk off our ass around each other." He smiled weakly, trying to return John's humor.

You: "Yeah, probably a good plan," John agreed, laughing shakily. "So, can we shake on a truce or something? I'd like to put this behind us in the 'What I did when I was drunk and never going to do again' file."

Stranger: "Agreed," Lestrade held out his hand. "Truce."

You: John shook his hand, finally able to smile easily. They let go as a waitress came up for their order and grinned at each other. They'd spent so much time talking, they hadn't even thought about food.

Stranger: "Want to just split one? I'll pay." Lestrade asked John, who had picked up a menu and was flipping through it.

You: "Sure," John replied. "But it's only fair I pay half. I'm the idiot who started this whole mess."

Stranger: "Yeah, but I know money has to be tight for you, seeing you... well, aren't working and all. I insist. Let me treat you."

You: "As long as we don't end up at the pub again this time," John said. "What kind of pizza do you want?"

Stranger: "Want to just do pepperoni or something?" Lestrade shrugged.

You: "Sure," John replied, raising a hand to catch the attention of the waitress. After they had placed their order, John looked back at Lestrade and said, "So, all joking aside here, I'm assuming you don't want this spoken of again? Especially on a case?"

Stranger: "We can talk about as need be, but in private." Lestrade said at length. "But only if it's getting awkward between us because of it."

You: John nodded decisively and said, "Yeah, I can deal with that." He smiled again and shifted the talk to the body they had seen earlier.

Stranger: Lestrade told him what they had found out after he left. He raised an eyebrow at John. "Any inputs?"

You: "Maybe the boyfriend?" John said quizzically. "From the pictures your team found, he is taller than her."

Stranger: "We also found blonde hair on her clothes. The boyfriend was black haired, but that doesn't mean much, seeing she could have been in contact with anyone before the attack." Lestrade said as the pizza was placed between them.

You: "Human or animal?" John asked. "Though it may be too early to tell yet. Well, as -he- liked to say, little old ladies are better than alarms. Check with the neighbors." John felt his smile slip a bit, the memory of a grinning and excited Sherlock overwhelming him.

Stranger: Lestrade nodded and looked at John, who was just staring down at his pizza slice, frowning. "John..?"

You: "Yeah, sorry," John mumbled, more images flashing through his mind at the speed of light. "Just.... memories, you know? They creep up at the most random times."

Stranger: "Are you alright?" Lestrade asked, leaning against the table on his arms. "I know it's painful..."

You: "I'm not really all right," John replied, picking at the crust of his pizza. "But I think that's not going to change and I've gotten used to it. And I've kind of gotten used to the pain. It hasn't dulled yet. Not even now, three months later."

Stranger: "You want to talk about it more? I'm here for you, John." Lestrade said, letting his words come out in a soothing tone.

You: "I still can't believe he's gone," John whispered. "I walk into the flat and expect to see him playing that damned violin or laying on the couch with nicotine patches stuck to his arm. And it hurts all over again when I hear the silence."

Stranger: "Have you ever thought of moving? Or getting a new flatmate?" Lestrade asked, ignoring the smell of tempting pizza.

You: "Thought about it," John laughed darkly. "Then almost retched at the idea of someone taking -his- space. Decided that a flatmate was not a good plan and I can't stand the thought of living anywhere else."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded, not knowing what to really say. "Have you thought of doing anything?"

 

You: "What do you mean?" John asked, raising sorrowful eyes to Lestrade. He could feel the images of Sherlock burning in his brain, imagined that if he concentrated, they would appear in his eyes like a movie projector.

Stranger: "Just like... do you have a plan? Have you thought about what you wanted to do?" Lestrade asked, watching John's sad looking eyes.

You: "Not really," John replied. "Been mostly just surviving. Looking on to the next thing. First the funeral, then work, then the day you visited. Then working up to this meeting."

Stranger: "You thinking of getting a new job, see if that gets your mind off... some... things?"

You: "No, I don't think anyone'd have me right now," John said honestly. "And if another patient came in like that last one, I wouldn't be able to hold back like I did then."

Stranger: Lestrade didn't know what to say. He ran his hand through his hair and looked down at their now-cold pizza.

You: "I still haven't really cried since the funeral," John said, still toying with his pizza. "I've felt the tears, but they won't fall. It's like if I keep them in, I keep him alive, somehow."

Stranger: "John, I'm so sorry... I mean, I know you loved him... I know you love him still..." Lestrade said slowly, wanting so badly to comfort him.

You: "Yeah, I know," John said quietly. "And I'm sorry to whine all over you, but you're one of the few who somewhat understood him. I wish..." John ducked his head and swiped a hand over his eyes. No crying, not yet.

Stranger: "Do you want to leave, John? Go somewhere... more private?" Lestrade asked slowly, watching the broken man.

You: "Yeah, I think that's a good idea," John replied shakily. "Sometimes, the urge to scream hits me and I can't control it. I can feel it starting."

Stranger: "Come on, we can go back to my place if you want." Lestrade said, leaving cash on the table for the bill and tip and standing.

You: "Thanks," John answered, a smile crossing his face. He stood with Lestrade and walked back outside, staring at the cab waiting across the street. "Hey," he muttered. "That bloke in the cab looks familiar."

Stranger: Lestrade looked over to the cab and his stomach lurched. 'God damn you Sherlock...' he thought, taking John's arm and dragging him quickly to his car. "I don't think so, if anything, he looks kinda creepy." He said lamely, opening the door for John.

You: "I guess, maybe," John said hesitantly. He turned around to look back at the cab, hoping to catch a glimpse of the man inside. "I could have sworn though.... You know what? Nevermind. I'm just seeing what I want to again." He folded himself into the car and stared morosely out the window.

Stranger: "You're not allowed to go make out with the cabbie." Lestrade joked as he sat in the car and started it.

You: John laughed weakly, his thoughts not on the cabbie but the man in the backseat. "I think if it gets that far, I may have to be locked up for a bit," John joked. "Making out with a guy because he kinda looks like.... -him-."

Stranger: Lestrade sent him a glance, checking out to make sure he was still okay. He turned a corner, slowing down a little. He glanced in his mirror and noticed the cab following them.

You: John continued to stare out the window, watching the streets roll by. Flashes of jumping rooftops with Sherlock to prove a point and to catch a different cab went through his mind and had John giggling quietly. How he wished that conversation in Angelo's had gone a little differently, a little less stilted.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled up to his flat and shut off the car, glancing in all the mirrors to see the cab across the street. He sighed and turned to John. "You going to be okay?"

You: "Eventually maybe," John said, staring down the street as well. He finally noticed that Lestrade was preoccupied and a touch worried. "What's wrong?" he asked.

Stranger: Lestrade snapped his attention back to John, faking a smile. "Nothing, come on, lets get you upstairs." Lestrade opened his door.

You: John limped up the steps, his cane hitting the stairs hard. He walked into Lestrade's living room and waited while the DI hung up their coats.

Stranger: "Sit down, John. I'll grab us something to drink." Lestrade said, exiting to the kitchen.

You: "Tea for me, please, if you don't mind," John called after him, a small grin lighting his face. He wasn't going to feel comfortable drinking around Lestrade for a little while. His grin faded when his thoughts turned back to Sherlock and he swore he could still smell the man. Almost like he had been in the room and just left.

Stranger: Lestrade started the kettle and whipped out his phone, opening a new message. Are you crazy, Sherlock?! Do you want to be caught?! -GL

You: He won't recognize me. No one does without my hair and regular clothes. - SH

Stranger: He did. -GL

You: He -couldn't- have. I look nothing like myself. - SH

Stranger: He took one look at you and asked me if you looked familiar. He loves you, Sherlock. He can recognize you no matter how you look! - GL

You: …. Are you sure? - SH

Stranger: I heard him clear as day, Sherlock! -GL

You: What do I do? I want to keep an eye on him but what if he recognizes me? - SH

Stranger: Have Mycroft set up cameras or something in your flat! I don't know, but you can't follow us... He's already broken. -GL

You: He's... broken? What do you mean?? - SH

Stranger: His heart, Sherlock! His bloody heart! He's close to tears when your name is ever even close to being said. He can't even say it any more, he just calls you 'him'. -GL

You: He called me by name at the funeral. I heard him. I thought he was getting better, dealing with the loss. What if he turns to drugs again? What if I lose him before I can come back? - SH

Stranger: He hasn't said it since... He said it maybe once after that to me, that's it, and he was drunk off his ass. He only said it when we kissed. -GL

You: WHAT? - SH

Stranger: … did I not tell you...? -GL

You: No. You. Did. Not. Tell me now! - SH

Stranger: We were both drunk in the bar, he said I smelled like you and before either of us knew it, he was pulling me onto his lap and we were making out... -GL

You: He's mine, Lestrade! Don't touch him anymore, I don't care how drunk you are! - SH

Stranger: Sherlock, it was a mistake... -GL

You: And one you are not going to repeat. Ever. What happened today? Why were you guys talking? - SH

Stranger: We were talking about what happened. -GL

You: And? - SH

Stranger: Nothing happened, I promise. -GL

You: All right. How's John doing now? After seeing me? - SH

Stranger: He's upset. Like I said, broken. -GL

You: Will you... will you please watch him? I don't want to chance him recognizing me and getting killed. - SH

Stranger: Sherlock, that's all I've been doing. I've been watching him every chance I get. I only took him to the bar to get him to cheer up, I promise. -GL

You: Thank you. And you should probably get back to him. He's probably wondering what's taking so long. - SH

Stranger: You're right. I'll text you when he leaves and I'm alone. I might stop by Molly's if it's not too late. -GL

You: All right. That lead of yours at Janus Cars fell through by the way. The man knew nothing. - SH

Stranger: I'm sorry.... I'll have to search the files tomorrow. -GL

You: Thank you. And give Mycroft a kick to get him working harder. I need to figure this out and I need his help, much as I hate to say it. Good night. - SH

Stranger: Night, I'll talk to you later. -GL Lestrade pocketed the phone and took the tea and two cups into the living room and back to John. "Here you are." He smiled, handing John a cup of tea.

You: "Mycroft missing you?" John asked, nodding his head towards the phone in Lestrade's pocket. He took a sip of tea and sighed, savoring the taste.

Stranger: "Yeah, he was giving me hell about rather being with you than him." Lestrade laughed.

You: "Tell him he has nothing to worry about," John laughed back. "I don't want to get on the bad side of the British Government."

Stranger: "Don't worry, John." Lestrade smiled and sat next to him. "I told him you were just upset and we were talking things out. He just had me promise the weekend with him."

You: John smiled and looked away, wishing he had someone to promise the weekend to. He was getting tired of his emotions, the highs and lows. It felt like he was on a rollercoaster with no end in sight.

Stranger: "Ever think of getting a dog?" Lestrade said out of nowhere.

You: "A dog?" John repeated, turning the idea over in his mind. "No. May not be a good idea. I don't want to accidentally kill it by not feeding it."

Stranger: "Why would you not feed it? Why would you forget?" Lestrade set his tea in the plate.

You: "Because sometimes I don't leave my room for days," John replied quietly, his words a paraphrase of one of the first full sentences Sherlock ever said to him. "And I don't want something else's life dependent on me. I already failed once..."

Stranger: "Maybe a plant then? Or a fish? Something you can have in your room?" Lestrade suggested. "And you never failed, John..."

You: "Suicide notes are a cry for help," John growled, sounding as if he was quoting some textbook. "He was asking for help and I said the wrong things, couldn't talk him out of jumping."

Stranger: "I doubt even if you said the -right- things, John, you could of stopped him..." Lestrade said, remembering Sherlock's reason for all this.

You: "Maybe," John set his empty teacup down, the porcelain rattling only slightly on the saucer. "But I still feel like I had a chance and I let it slip by. You know how hard it was not to let I love you slip out on that call? Then he told me he lied and to spread the story and I just lost it."

Stranger: "Why didn't you tell him? If you knew it was your last shot?"

You: "Because I was still scared," John explained. "He told me on our first case he was married to his work. That he was flattered by my interest but still shot me down. Even though, then, I wasn't really trying to ask him out. And I guess I thought that never changed. Now I'll never know."

Stranger: Lestrade watched John struggle with the tears. "You don't have to fight them..." Lestrade said slowly.

You: John wrapped his arms around himself and let the tears fall, finally giving in to his grief. A sob wrenched its way out of his throat, filling the silence that was left after their talking.

Stranger: Lestrade slowly put his hand on John's back, rubbing in circles. He got closer and put a hand on the man's knee.

You: John leaned into the offered comfort, his arms still tight around his stomach, and let go of everything. His fear, sorrow, anger, hatred of the past. Everything and just let himself cry.

Stranger: Lestrade wrapped his arms around John, Sherlock's words still burned into his mind. 'This isn't flirting, this is being a friend. This is all your bloody fault, Sherlock!' Lestrade thought, cursing the detective.

You: John uncurled his arms from around his stomach and held onto Lestrade, tears still rolling down his face. He could feel himself drowning in the onslaught of emotions he was releasing and clung to Lestrade as if to an anchor.

Stranger: Lestrade rested his head on John's, holding him closer. He rubbed John's arm as he cried, whispered soothing words to him.

You: John felt the tears slow, the sobbing finally tapering off. He could take deep breaths now, feeding oxygen into his starved lungs. When he could take stock of his surroundings, he saw he had his head on Lestrade's shoulder and his arms wrapped tightly around him. "Thank you," John whispered, pulling back. "I don't think I could have handled that alone."

Stranger: "Are you sure you're okay?" Lestrade asked, keeping his hand on John's shoulder and knee. He looked at John's red, swollen eyes, feeling his stomach flip.

You: "I'm better," John said, swiping a hand over his eyes. "Don't know if I'll reach ok." His eyes felt gritty and sore, hot and raw. He really hated crying but had to admit he needed it.

Stranger: "I'm here for you, okay?" Lestrade whispered, rubbing John's back slowly.

You: "Thanks, Greg. Can't promise that's the last time I'll ever cry on your shoulder," John said. He sat back and poured some more tea into his cup. Raising it to his lips with shaking hands, John took a deep sip.

Stranger: Lestrade removed his hands and sat back as well, staying within arms reach of John. Oh how he wanted to text that bastard and yell at him for causing John this much pain. Later.

You: John cleared his throat again and looked sheepishly at Lestrade. "You.... You mind if I stay here tonight? I don't want to be alone in the flat...."

Stranger: "Of course, John. I'll make up the spare room." Lestrade stood and started out to the hallway.

You: John finished his cup and poured some more tea, needing the warmth to distract him. He just felt cold now, as if he had cried out everything that kept him alive. Which was silly, really. He had buried what had brought him back to life. He looked up as Lestrade walked back in.

Stranger: "Want to come and I'll show you the room?" Lestrade asked, leaning on the door frame.

You: "Sure." John stood slowly from the couch, the pain in his leg still bothering him. Though, it seemed lessened now. He limped after Lestrade and walked into the spare bedroom.

Stranger: "Will this work?" Lestrade asked as they stepped inside the door.

You: "Yes it looks perfect, thanks," John nodded. "As different from the flat as it's possible to get. Thanks again." John smiled gratefully at Lestrade before limping to the bed to sit heavily on it. "I think I'm going to get some sleep, now. Good night, Greg."

Stranger: "Alright, I'm right down the hall if you need me." Lestrade smiled at him as he went to leave the room. "Night." He said as he shut the door.

\------------------------------------------------------

You: Sherlock, John's staying the night here. Just thought to let you know. - GL

Stranger: Oh? Is he alright? -SH

You: Not really. Really bad crying jag in my arms. But he seems to be doing better. - GL

Stranger: In your arms? -SH

You: Yes. It was either that or let him hug himself and try to gain comfort from that. - GL

Stranger: You couldn't have done it any other way? You had to put your arms around him? -SH

You: Yes, I did. It's called comforting Sherlock. And John needed someone there for him. - GL

Stranger: I thought I made it clear, Lestrade. John is mine. Do not touch him. -SH

You: It wasn't like that. I know you love him. He loves you, you bloody idiot, not me. I was being a friend to a friend who needed one. - GL

Stranger: That explains the kiss! -SH

You: That was a drunk mistake that is not going to be repeated. - GL

Stranger: You two seem to be getting pretty comfortable though! A little too so in my liking! -SH

You: That's not what it's about, Sherlock! John fell apart on my couch, his arms wrapped tight around himself. He wouldn't let himself cry before this. - GL

Stranger: That doesn't mean you have to let him fall apart in your arms though, Lestrade. -SH

You: What, you wanted me to ignore him? Let him cry alone? You didn't hear him Sherlock. You didn't hear the babbling and the pleas and the tears. - GL

Stranger: Why didn't you text me then? -SH

You: Yeah, that would have been considerate. Pulling out my phone in the middle of trying to comfort a friend. - GL

Stranger: You would have been talking to the person he actually likes! -SH

You: And wouldn't be able to breathe a word of it! How cruel would that have been? I won't do that to him. - GL

Stranger: I could have told you what to say! -SH

You: And if he guessed? You want him in danger? John's not an idiot, he would have heard your voice in the words. - GL

Stranger: Oh please, he wouldn't have been able to figure it out! -SH

You: Like he wouldn't recognize you in the cab? - GL

Stranger: John isn't that smart, Lestrade. -SH

You: And apparently, neither are you. All he thinks about is you. He recognized you in the cab, he knows how you speak. He would know. - GL

Stranger: The cabbie had dark curls, John could have easily have guessed that. -SH

You: You think so? I specifically mentioned the driver. He said the man in the back. - GL

Stranger: Could have been someone else in a different cab. -SH

You: That followed me home? Really, Sherlock, you think I wouldn't pick up a tail? And why are you being so difficult about this? - GL

Stranger: Because, Lestrade, you're flirting with him and I don't like it! -SH

You: I'm not flirting with him. I'm trying to help him deal with your "death". And he's not dealing well. Did you find out he lost his job because he screamed a patient out of the clinic in your defense? - GL

Stranger: That was an idiotic move on his part... -SH

You: No, that was a loyal move. He loves you and he believes in you. Besides, any flirting I do is aimed at Mycroft. - GL

Stranger: Gross, Lestrade. -SH

You: Hey, you brought it up. Have you been watching John a lot lately? Know if he's been getting any sleep? He mentioned he doesn't leave his room for days sometimes. - GL

Stranger: Tell me when I once said Mycroft's name? And no, I don't have cameras in the flat yet. Your -boyfriend- was supposed to do it, but he mysteriously got -busy-. -SH

You: You put me and flirting in the same sentence, that's how you mentioned Mycroft. And I'll remind him next time I see him. There's a worrying silence coming from my guest bedroom and I don't think John's really sleeping. - GL

Stranger: Then why are you bloody texting me about it?! Go make sure he didn't bloody hurt himself you idiot! -SH

You: I don't think he did. He promised not to do drugs anymore. But if you're really worried, I'll go check on him. - GL

Stranger: And you don't think there are other means of hurting oneself?! You really are an idiot, Lestrade. -SH

You: That's not something I can see John doing. If he were going to do anything, he'd put his gun to his head and pull the trigger. But I'll check on him. Be right back. - GL. Lestrade stood and walked to the spare room, knocking on the door gently. He eased it open when he heard nothing and saw John curled up in a ball on the bed, tossing in sleep. He eased it shut and sent a text to Sherlock.

Stranger: So he's ok? -SH

You: Ok? Maybe, maybe not. But he is sleeping. Not easily, but asleep. - GL

Stranger: Good, now get out of his room. -SH

You: I already am, Sherlock. Closed the door before I even texted you. - GL

Stranger: You better have. I don't want you watching him sleep. -SH

You: Yeah, that didn't come off all stalker-y. Really, who do you think I am? I'm worried about him, that's all. - GL

Stranger: Your worrying seems a lot like flirting. -SH

You: Maybe you need to look up the definitions, Sherlock. Or take off the green glasses and see clearly. - GL

Stranger: I very well know the definitions, thank you. And I am in no way  wearing any glasses of any color. -SH

You: Yes, you are. It's called jealousy. I'm not going after John in any way, shape, or form. I just want him to survive until you come back. - GL

Stranger: I. Am. Not. Jealous. -SH

You: I believe you believe that, you bloody idiot. Now are we going to have this argument if John needs a shoulder again? Because its gonna get old real fast and John told me himself he may need it again. - GL

Stranger: Don't. Touch. Him. -SH

You: You'd rather I let him wallow in misery, alone, where he might conceivably kill himself? - GL

Stranger: No, don't let him kill himself. But don't. Touch. Him. -SH

You: You're not jealous. And I wish sarcasm translated through text. Until you come back and tell him you're alive, I will do what I need to within the bounds of -friendship- to keep him alive. - GL

Stranger: I. Am. Not. Jealous. Lestrade! -SH

You: Uh-huh. Anyway, if you don't want me comforting him for a very long time, you may want to hurry up and find those snipers. I don't know how much longer John can last because he's really not getting better. - GL

Stranger: Well, you could alway hurry up and search the files instead of flirting with John. Then I may get somewhere. -SH

You: Imagine me rolling my eyes at you. And first thing in the morning, I will search again. And I told you, I flirt with Mycroft, no one else. - GL

Stranger: That's still gross, Lestrade. -SH

You: Keep mentioning me and flirting and I may have to tell you a few lines. - GL

Stranger: I doubt he even likes you, Lestrade. My brother doesn't "date" -SH

You: What? And everything he's told me so far is a lie? I don't believe you. - GL

Stranger: He has never dated before. Why would he start now? Why would he start with you? -SH

You: He told me he'd had relationships in the past. Ones that ended badly which is why he never tried dating afterwards. You telling me he lied to me? And what do you mean with me? - GL

Stranger: He's obviously lying. Could you see him as a "ladies man?" I mean really. And I mean, why would he start with a male? Why would he start with someone like you? A complete idiot, he wouldn't. -SH

You: A ladies man, no. But he's obviously had some experience with relationships. And though we've never touched on what genders, he's obviously been with a male before. And -I'm- a complete idiot? What right do you get to say that? - GL

Stranger: Maybe with his pillow at night, or someone he's paid, but otherwise, no. He's never dated. Yes, you are a complete idiot. I have all the right in the world. Seeing I'm a hundred times smarter than you'll ever be. -SH

You: You're lying. He knows what I've gone through and he wouldn't do that to me. And you may be smarter than me in some ways, but I'm still fairly intelligent. Wouldn't be a homicide detective if I weren't. - GL

Stranger: Please, my brother is as manipulative as I am. He would say and do anything to get what he wants. -SH

You: Which kind of negates one of your points, by the way. If he'd say or do anything, he did want me. - GL. Lestrade sighed to himself as he sent that text. He was really trying to uplift his own ego under the brutal words Sherlock was hurling at him.

Stranger: He only wanted you because he probably wanted to get off cheap with someone. -SH

You: You..... you have no idea what you're talking about. Really? This is how you get back at someone who's trying to help the man you love? By taking him apart? - GL

Stranger: Oh, but don't I? I think I know my brother a little better than you. -SH

You: And would your brother take care of someone once he had gotten off with them? Tell them he loved them and slept wrapped around them? - GL

Stranger: He would if he'd want to get off cheap again. He'd say or do anything -SH

You: How.... how dare you. You, you bastard. You really are a piece of work, you know that? You see someone finally getting a piece of happiness and you have to destroy it in a fit of temper. - GL

Stranger: Please, if anything I'm saving you. -SH

You: SAVING ME? Saving me by trying to rip my heart out? I've finally trusted someone again, let someone back in, after my wife cheated on me and left. And you're -saving- me. - GL

Stranger: Do you want that to happen again? -SH

You: Want what to happen again? Cheating? - GL

Stranger: Yes. -SH

You: He wouldn't do that. He promised.... - GL

Stranger: Promise is just a word. -SH

You: Not to me. And if Mycroft can read people as well as you do, he would know that. You saw us in Molly's flat. How is that not real? - GL

Stranger: He knew it wasn't just a word to you, and that's why he said it. And you said it yourself, I can read people. I saw you in Molly's flat. -SH

You: And? What did you see then? - GL

Stranger: If I saw what you assume I saw, would I be telling you all of this? -SH

You: Damn it, Sherlock, tell me what you saw! - GL

Stranger: I told you. He doesn't love you. He doesn't give a damn about you. You're nothing to him. -SH

You: No, I don't believe you. -I'm- a better judge of character than that. - GL

Stranger: You're nothing but a cheap couple nights in bed for him. -SH

You: No. No, you're wrong. You - have- to be. You hate your brother. Wouldn't you be telling me this to do something horrible to him? - GL

Stranger: That does sound like me, doesn't it? But I'm doing this for you, Lestrade. -SH

You: Why? Couldn't you at least let me be happy for a little while? - GL

Stranger: I thought you said you didn't want cheating to happen again? -SH

You: And how are you so sure he would? Do you watch Mycroft? - GL

Stranger: I do, in fact. -SH

You: Yeah? And he's done this before? - GL. Lestrade sent the last text with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Sherlock wasn't often wrong. And about his own brother? Who would know Mycroft better?

Stranger: Yes. -SH

You: What!? And you didn't think to tell me before now? God, Sherlock, I've been seeing him for two months now. - GL

Stranger: Well, I didn't know the first few days. -SH

You: And after you saw us at Molly's flat, it somehow slipped your mind? God, I wish sarcasm worked here. How many times has he done this? Played with someone's emotions? - GL

Stranger: Many, Lestrade. -SH

You: Why? - GL

Stranger: I told you, a cheap night or two in bed. -SH

You: God, I don't know why, but I believe you. Much as it fucking hurts, I believe you. Go away, Sherlock. Let me deal with this on my own. - GL

Stranger: My pleasure. I don't want to deal with this. -SH

You: I'll text you if anything changes with John. Good night. - GL

Stranger: Night -SH

\-----------------end chapter 5-----------------------


	6. Chapter 6

Stranger: You fucking cheater! -GL

You: Greg what are you talking about? - MH

Stranger: Sherlock told me all about it. How I'm just a few cheap nights in bed to you! -GL

You: What? Sherlock told you... Oh, Greg, no. Why don't you come over? I don't want to do this through texts. - MH

Stranger: I can't leave. John is here. -GL

You: Can I come over there? I'll stay outside if you want me to. - MH

Stranger: Whatever. -GL

You: Give me 15 minutes and I'll be there. - MH. Mycroft quickly dressed and headed out to his car. He drove to Lestrade's house and stayed on the front porch, texting to let him know he was here.

Stranger: Lestrade opened the door and stepped outside, closing the door mostly behind him. He crossed his arm and couldn't look Mycroft in the face, the pain was too deep.

You: "What did Sherlock tell you?" Mycroft growled, his hands clenching into fists in his pockets.

Stranger: "He told me I was nothing but a few cheap nights in bed for you. how could you play me like that, Mycroft?!" Lestrade said angrily.

You: "And you believed him," Mycroft said flatly, his tone making it a statement. "After everything we've done, you believed him."

Stranger: "Why shouldn't I? Apparently all you've been doing is Lying to me. He knows you better than I do. Why wouldn't I believe him?" Lestrade raised his voice a little, anger pulsing through him.

You: "I haven't been lying to you," Mycroft said quietly. "What exactly did he tell you about me to get you to believe him?"

Stranger: "That the only relationships you've been are the ones you've paid for." Lestrade growled.

You: "No, that's not true," Mycroft replied. "My first few relationships I didn't pay for. After they ended badly, as I told you, I didn't do relationships anymore. I hired someone when I felt the need for physical companionship. Though even that paled after a while."

Stranger: "He also said you cheated on them, which would explain why they ended badly." Lestrade mumbled angrily

You: "They cheated on me," Mycroft replied, his voice containing just a hint of bite. "I ended the relationship then."

Stranger: Lestrade stood silent for a moment before shaking his head. "You're lying..." Lestrade said at length.

You: Mycroft stepped up to Lestrade and gently rested a hand on his shoulder. "No," he asserted. "I told you, I won't lie to you. And I'm not lying now. I love you. Why would I lie?"

Stranger: "Because you just want the few more cheap nights in bed before you cheat on me." Lestrade said, close to tears. "You don't care about me..." Lestrade pushed Mycroft's hand off his shoulder unconvincingly.

You: "Greg, how can you believe that of me?" Mycroft asked, the hurt coiling in his belly. "Just because Sherlock said it, doesn't make it true. Remember what I told you in Molly's flat? You mean a lot to me and I won't hurt you."

Stranger: "How do I know you're not just saying that? Sherlock said you would say or do anything to get what you want." Lestrade said, the tears welling up in his eyes

You: "And so will Sherlock," Mycroft snapped. "He believes he knows me when he doesn't know the first thing."

Stranger: Lestrade couldn't fight them anymore. Taking a step back from Mycroft, the tears silently rolled down his cheeks.

You: Mycroft wanted desperately to reach up and brush the tears away, his hand lifting and pausing in the air. "Greg, please," he whispered. "I don't know why he told you what he did, but it's a lie. I won't hurt you, won't cheat on you. I don't consider you a few cheap nights in bed."

Stranger: "Then what do you consider me?" Lestrade said, tears making his voice heavy sounding.

You: "I consider you as someone I want to spend time with, take care of," Mycroft said, finishing the gesture his hand had started. He brushed at Lestrade's cheeks, his fingers slipping in the salty tracks. "Someone I love, very much so."

Stranger: "And when you tire of me?" Lestrade asked, avoiding eye contract and crossing his arms, but not pulling away from Mycroft's touch.

You: "I don't think I will," Mycroft said honestly, his other hand coming up to rest on Lestrade's shoulder again. "But if that ever happens, I will not cheat on you and we will talk about it."

Stranger: "Why would Sherlock lie to me? Was he lying to me?" Lestrade asked, tears stinging his face as they started to run more rapidly.

You: "He was, love," Mycroft said, taking a chance and folding Lestrade into his arms. "And I don't know why. What were you talking about before he started this?"

Stranger: "How comforting John while he was crying wasn't considered flirting..." Lestrade cried, letting himself be pulled into Mycroft's arms.

You: "He thought you were flirting with John?" Mycroft asked, confused. "Why?"

Stranger: "Because he was spending the night, and I was holding him while he cried, and because I told him about the kiss." Lestrade said, cuddling closer.

You: Mycroft tightened his arms and held Lestrade. But he couldn't fight the chuckle that forced its way out of his throat. "That's why, love," Mycroft explained. "He's jealous. And he thinks that you breaking up with me will keep you away from John."

Stranger: "He would kill me to keep me from John?" Lestrade asked slowly, feeling hurt.

You: "No, not kill you," Mycroft replied, rubbing circles on Lestrade's back. "But if he lied to you and had me watch John, you wouldn't want to be around. Not with that pain."

Stranger: "If he took me from you, he would have killed me..." Lestrade cried, hiding his face in Mycroft's neck.

You: "And I don't think he thought of it that way," Mycroft answered, placing gentle kisses on Lestrade's head. He wanted to calm the man any way he could and little gestures like this seemed to be working. "He just wants John safe. And his. My brother can be very possessive."

Stranger: "Can we go inside? I'm really tired... Stay tonight? I really need you tonight...." Lestrade asked, pulling back slightly.

You: "Of course," Mycroft told him, smiling into Lestrade's eyes. "Anything you need, I'm here."

Stranger: "I just need you right now, love." Lestrade smiled.

You: Mycroft kissed Lestrade gently on the nose then followed the DI into the house. Lestrade went into the kitchen and came back with a couple cups of tea. "Tea first?" Mycroft asked.

Stranger: "Yeah, I thought we might need to relax a bit." Lestrade smiled as he set the cups on the table by the couch.

You: "Sounds perfect,"Mycroft said quietly, drawing Lestrade down onto the couch. He pulled the DI into his arms and just held him, trying to confirm the point he made earlier about how he felt.

Stranger: Lestrade cuddled into Mycroft's embrace, closing his eyes and trying to get the burn from the tears before to go away. He took a deep breath and released it in a calming sigh, trying to get his heart to stop pounding against his ribs.

You: "You make good tea, love," Mycroft whispered, rubbing his hand down Lestrade's arm. "You feeling a little better?"

Stranger: "A bit, yeah." Lestrade smiled slightly, enjoying every brush from Mycroft. Mycroft's hand seemed to burn his skin, making Lestrade singe with desire for his boyfriend.

You: "I'm done with mine," Mycroft whispered, his voice like velvet. "When you're done, we can go to your bedroom."

Stranger: "Sounds perfect." Lestrade breathed before taking a long, deep sip of his tea. He rested his head back against Mycroft's. He could just feel his breathing under him, the slow rise and fall of his chest against his back.

You: Laying soft, feathery kisses along the side of Lestrade's neck as his head fell back, smiling in relief that Lestrade trusted him again. Though the next time he saw Sherlock, Mycroft was not going to be happy.

Stranger: "Mycroft?" Lestrade almost whispered, his voice sounded painfully loud against the darkened silence.

You: "Yes, Greg?" Mycroft asked, his voice caressing the syllable of his lover's name.

Stranger: "I'm sorry..." Lestrade closed his eyes. "I'm going to kill him..."

You: "Leave that to me," Mycroft growled. "I know exactly how to push my brother where it hurts. And I don't want him hurting you again."

Stranger: "I should never have begun to listen to him..." Lestrade sighed.

You: "It's not your fault," Mycroft soothed him. "My brother is sometimes too smart for his own good. You don't know me nearly as well and you've always trusted him before. Why would you stop?"

Stranger: "I still feel like I should have known better." Lestrade polished off his tea and sat up slightly to place it on the table, then relax back into Mycroft.

You: "You do now, though, right?" Mycroft asked, a slight tinge of concern bleeding into his voice. "You trust me again, love?"

Stranger: "Of course I do! I do." Lestrade said, turning in Mycroft's grip to look in his eyes.

You: "Good," Mycroft replied, placing a kiss on the bridge of Lestrade's nose. "It would tear me apart if you left like that."

Stranger: "Even if I left-" Lestrade leaned in closer to Mycroft. "-I'd come back to you..." He caught Mycroft's lips gently.

You: "Why?" Mycroft asked, honestly confused. "If you left, you'd have reasons why. Why would you come back?"

Stranger: "Because, love, I wouldn't be able to bear a moment without you..." Lestrade smiled lovingly at Mycroft.

You: Mycroft didn't answer, merely kissed him lovingly. He poured everything he felt into the kiss, trying to make Lestrade understand where words were failing him.

Stranger: Lestrade turned farther in Mycroft's arms. He cupped the back of Mycroft's neck in his hand and pulled him deeper.

You: Mycroft groaned against Lestrade's lips, melting into the kiss. He let Lestrade take the lead then, surrendering to what the DI wanted.

Stranger: Lestrade slowly and gently started to push on Mycroft, trying to get him to lay back on the couch.

You: Mycroft allowed himself to be pushed onto his back, trying not to break their kiss. He settled his hips and shoulders into a more comfortable position and wrapped his arms around Lestrade's back, holding him close.

Stranger: Lestrade ran his hands up Mycroft's sides, bringing them up to cup his face. He brushed his tongue against Mycroft's lips, then pulled it back, teasing him.

You: Lifting his head higher, Mycroft tried to stay in contact with Lestrade's lips but failed when the DI sat up on his waist. He groaned sadly at the loss of contact but rubbed his hands over Lestrade's back.

Stranger: Lestrade ran his hands from Mycroft's face down his neck, resting them on the first button of his shirt. He slowly undid it and slid his hands to the next one.

You: Smiling, Mycroft arched up into Lestrade's hands, his breath hitching as each button was slipped free.

Stranger: He finished the buttons on the shirt and gently slid the cloth from Mycroft's shoulders, revealing pale, soft skin. He ran his hands down Mycroft's chest to his stomach, than to his sides, making sure to go slow to make Mycroft shudder.

You: Trembling, Mycroft kept his eyes locked on Lestrade's. He could see renewed trust and love shining and knew his own eyes reflected that. "Greg..." Mycroft sighed, the word pulled from his mouth. "I love you."

Stranger: "I love you too, Mycroft." Lestrade smiled. He bent back over Mycroft and kissed him lightly, letting his hand go between Mycroft's legs to cup him gently, palming at the length.

You: Mycroft hissed, his back arching. He could feel himself hardening under Lestrade's touch and craved more. Craved everything.

Stranger: Lestrade snickered against Mycroft's lips, palming him a little harder, feeling the bulge grow quickly.

You: Moving one hand to the nape of Lestrade's neck, Mycroft pulled him down to placed fevered kisses on his cheeks and lips. Then, he licked urgently at his mouth until Lestrade acquiesced and opened for him.

Stranger: Lestrade let Mycroft's tongue inside, smiling as he did so. He felt the urgency the other man seemed to radiate. He let his hands abandon Mycroft's bulge and go up to the button on his pants. He undid it and the zipper and slid his hand inside, under the fabric of Mycroft's underwear, and grabbed his length.

You: "Yes," Mycroft sighed, his hips pumping into Lestrade's hand. "Please, please, I need you."

Stranger: Lestrade pulled his hand out and, in one, swift motion, stripped Mycroft of both his pants and underwear.

You: Mycroft gasped at the suddenness and ease with which Lestrade tore off his clothes, turned on beyond belief. He grinned up at him when Lestrade pulled back to look into his eyes. "Stopping so soon?" Mycroft whispered slyly.

Stranger: "No, I want to see you... I want to see you in all your beauty and grace..." Lestrade whispered back, letting his eyes sweep over Mycroft's body, taking in every curve and freckle.

You: He felt strangely vulnerable as Lestrade's gaze swept over him. Mycroft resisted the urge to cover himself with something, anything, and just stared into Lestrade's eyes. He relaxed a bit as he recognized the awe in Lestrade's eyes and saw no disdain or disgust.

Stranger: Lestrade bothered his bottom lip as his eyes swept down Mycroft's body. Everything about him was so perfect and beautiful. He smiled as he realized he was still fully dressed, and he had this man, the most powerful man in the British Government, to do anything he wanted to do. He swallowed as he let his fingertips run lazily over Mycroft's chest; over his already-hard nipples and down to his stomach. He was giving everything to him, his whole body to his fingertips, to love and hold and just... have.

You: Mycroft closed his eyes, giving his complete trust over to Lestrade. He leaned into the soft touches on his chest, enjoying them and wanting more.

Stranger: Lestrade bent over and kissed Mycroft's chest. He pulled back, only about an inch, keeping his eyes shut and just hovering there, his hands resting on Mycroft's hips. He didn't move.

You: Mycroft waited out the silence as long as he could, the warm puffs of Lestrade's breath comforting against his chest. "Love, are you ok?" Mycroft finally whispered, worried that something had gone wrong.

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled deeply, not moving from his spot. "I'm perfect, baby. Just enjoying it, is all." He chuckled deeply again, kissing his chest again and going back to hovering.

You: His hands tracing rough circles over Lestrade's back, Mycroft gave up the final bit of control he had been holding on to. He dropped his arms to his sides, opened his eyes, and smiled into Lestrade's face. He only hoped the other man would understand his gesture.

Stranger: Lestrade opened his eyes and looked up, barely raising his head. He met Mycroft's, whose eyes watched him, full of desire and want. Lestrade sat back a little and whispered, "Can you remove my shirt, love?"

You: "Of course," Mycroft replied, his hands lifting to slowly undo each button. He caressed each inch of skin as it was revealed, trailing his fingers down to the next button. When they were all open, he slid his hands underneath the fabric over Lestrade's shoulders and guided it down his arms.

Stranger: Lestrade helped Mycroft shrug off the shirt, letting it fall to the floor. He smirked and laid down on Mycroft, letting his chest lay against his, and kissed him gently, slowly.

You: Mycroft hummed in pleasure, feeling the sound vibrate between their mouths. He was panting slightly now, his chest pressing against Lestrade's at each inhale. His hands had dropped back to his sides and were gently brushing at Lestrade's sides.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled back and went to Mycroft's ear. "And my pants?" He panted in a whisper before taking the flesh between his teeth and lightly pulling at it.

You: "God, yes," Mycroft muttered, his head turning to follow the movement of Lestrade's mouth. He undid the button on Lestrade's pants and slid them down, not surprised to see that once again, Lestrade was wearing nothing underneath.

Stranger: Lestrade ran his tongue over the top of Mycroft's ear lightly. He carefully worked off his pants till they fell to the floor. Keeping his ear in his mouth, Lestrade rubbed his erection against Mycroft's.

You: Mycroft's breathing sped up, coming now in heaving bursts. He couldn't stop his hands from fisting against Lestrade's back, holding the man close to him. Nor could he stop the inarticulate pleas dripping from his mouth.

Stranger: Lestrade released Mycroft's ear and went down to his neck, licking at the soft skin under his jaw and nipping at it playfully. He let his erection run all the way down Mycroft's making sure every inch of skin touched the other man's down there. He moaned and left a love mark just under the jaw line.

You: Mycroft tipped his head back to allow Lestrade more access to his neck and wrapped his legs around Lestrade's. He could hear needy moans escaping his mouth and didn't want to stop them. He wanted Lestrade to know they were for him and only him.

Stranger: Lestrade went back up to Mycroft's ear, wanting the message to be quiet and full of the lust he was feeling. "Babe, lift up a little." He said, barely above a whisper. He went back down to Mycroft's neck and kissed him lightly, letting his lips just barely brush the delicate, marked skin.

You: Mycroft complied almost immediately, a spark of desire travelling through him.

Stranger: Lestrade slid a hand under the nick of his back, helping his lover hold the pose. As slowly as he could, he slid into Mycroft's entrance. He snickered at the needy, wanting moans that emitted from Mycroft's mouth.

You: Mycroft rocked hard against Lestrade's hips, lost in the sensation. His mouth gaped open to allow his whimpers to escape, begging Lestrade for more. Always more.

Stranger: Lestrade, seeing Mycroft's open mouth, quickly licked in. He was slow in his movements. He wanted to drag this out as long as possible.

You: Mycroft's eyes snapped open, wanting to see Lestrade's face. He kissed him hungrily, needily, hoping this moment never ended. Tangling his hands in Lestrade's hair, Mycroft held him gently against his mouth.

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled deeply in this throat. He pumped slowly, letting his hands brush Mycroft's sides and hips.

You: "Please, love, faster," Mycroft begged, his voice raw with desire. He buried his head in Lestrade's neck and sucked on the skin there, leaving a round bruise.

Stranger: "No," Lestrade whispered. "I want this slow and loving, babe."

You: "God....," Mycroft sighed. "I feel like I'm going to fly apart."

Stranger: "Beautiful." Lestrade snickered, kissing Mycroft's nose.

You: "You are that," Mycroft murmured, smiling. He ran his hands down Lestrade's back gently and cupped his hips.

Stranger: "As are you," Lestrade panted, pumping a little faster.

You: Mycroft's eyes slid closed again, the love on Lestrade's face pulling at his chest. His fingers tightened on Lestrade's hips and moved with him, connecting them even more. He opened his mouth eagerly when he felt his lover's lips against his again.

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled darkly and ran his tongue no deeper than Mycroft's teeth. He teased at the man's lips with his tongue as he pumped harder. His hand helping to hold Mycroft up ran soft circles.

You: Mycroft moaned as he felt Lestrade move faster inside him. He pumped his hips in time with him, the friction between them driving him mad.

Stranger: "I'm in love with you, Mycroft." Lestrade panted, his hips speeding up.

You: Mycroft nodded, unable to make a coherent response to that. Unable to make his mouth work, in point of fact. He moved his legs up and wrapped them around Lestrade's waist, pulling him even deeper inside him.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned at the motion. He threw his head back, panting deeply. He couldn't pull in enough oxygen if he wanted to.

You: Mycroft surged up underneath Lestrade, pulling the man's head down to him. He pressed kisses to his collarbone and up his throat, sucking on the skin underneath the point of his jaw. He heard a subdued growling and realized it was coming from him.

Stranger: Lestrade growled back slightly, at the sound. He gasped as Mycroft's hands neared his entrance.

You: "Can I love?" Mycroft asked breathlessly. "Want to touch you, make you feel like you make me."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded, panting.

You: Mycroft traced a circle around Lestrade before slowly working a finger inside. He brought the pace up to match that of their hips and slipped another finger in when Lestrade was open enough.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned loudly, pleasure coursing through him double time.

You: Mycroft swallowed the moan, kissing him deeply. He couldn't hold back anymore, couldn't just let Lestrade set the pace. He licked his way around Lestrade's mouth, relearning every texture and taste. He worked another finger inside Lestrade and pumped furiously, wanting to drive them both over the edge.

Stranger: Lestrade screamed Mycroft's name into his mouth, muffling it slightly. He nipped at Mycroft's tongue playfully, pumping harder and faster.

You: "Yes, yes, Greg, please, yes," Mycroft chanted, the words hoarse and whispery. "Love you, please, Greg." He couldn't keep still enough to continue the kiss and dropped his head into the crook of Lestrade's shoulder.

Stranger: Lestrade kissed Mycroft's head, flattening the hair as he went. He nipped at his ear and tugged it gently. His body couldn't move fast enough. Every movement Mycroft made drove him insane. He couldn't seem to touch him enough.

You: Mycroft groaned, feeling the familiar tightening in his belly. He wrapped his free hand around Lestrade's back and held tightly, melding his chest to Lestrade's.

Stranger: Lestrade's erection was burning. He was close and he knew it, but he couldn't get his mouth to say it to Mycroft. He moaned loudly, thrusting in harder and deeper then before.

You: "C... close," Mycroft muttered against Lestrade's neck then sucked on the skin. He pumped his hips sharply a few more times then felt his orgasm burst out of him. The warm liquid ran between them, slicking their chests.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned loudly and felt his orgasm explode inside of Mycroft. He rode it out, throwing his head back.

You: "Yes, GREG!" Mycroft yelled, feeling the jerking movements inside him. He stilled his fingers and just rested, filling Lestrade. They both panted heavily as Lestrade stilled his movements and rested on Mycroft.

Stranger: Lestrade slowly pulled out and felt Mycroft remove his fingers. He let Mycroft fall to the couch and fell on top of him, panting hard. He closed his eyes and whispered 'I love you's to Mycroft's ear. A small clearing of the throat on the other side of the room jerked him awake.

You: "Um, hi, yeah, houseguest awake now," John stammered, a blush creeping over his cheeks. "You guys, uh, ok? Not, you know, dying or anything?"

Stranger: "Oh my god, John... I … God, we..." Lestrade stammered, jumping at the sight of him and falling on the floor with a loud thump.

You: "Nnnn, you really didn't need to get up," John said, closing his eyes. "Really, really didn't need to get up. Just heard, um, screaming and thought you guys were in trouble. Um, yeah, gonna go back to bed now. Night."

Stranger: Lestrade let his head drop into his arms on the floor, facing down, as he heard John retreat. Just after he thought the awkwardness was over between them too...

You: "Love, come back?" Mycroft asked, one hand reaching toward Lestrade on the floor. "He's gone now so he won't see. And I'd recommend not telling Sherlock about this part." Mycroft chuckled dryly.

Stranger: "Why not? It'd be good revenge..." Lestrade tried to joke, not moving. "God... Why didn't we move to the bedroom?"

You: "I don't know," Mycroft replied, trailing his fingers against Lestrade's shoulder. "Though I thoroughly enjoyed the couch. It's a nice couch. Comfy and warm."

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled into the floor. He didn't want to move. He was tired, and, as he could tell from his burning face, bright red.

You: "The floor can't be all that comfortable," Mycroft continued to wheedle. "Come back up here, love. Or we can finally make it to the bedroom, if you want."

Stranger: Lestrade didn't answer, he just let the carpet dig into his skin.

You: Mycroft pushed himself into a sitting position and rested his legs on the ground. Once he was sure they would take his weight, he stood and then knelt down next to Lestrade. "Come on, love," he breathed into his ear. "It's all right. Come to bed with me."

Stranger: Lestrade raised his head to the side, resting it on his arms. He waited for Mycroft to say more.

You: "You can't stay here," Mycroft whispered, stroking the back of Lestrade's head. "It's going to hurt. Come with me, lay down in my arms. Please, love."

Stranger: Lestrade sighed and slowly eased himself off the carpet, looking down at all the red marks he hand and outlines of the strands from the carpet. He sighed again and looked up at Mycroft.

You: Mycroft opened his arms in silent invitation and plea for Lestrade to hug him. He waited, breathlessly, as he watched Lestrade decide what to do.

Stranger: Lestrade took the embrace, resting his head on Mycroft's shoulder.

You: "Are you ok?" Mycroft asked, pressing a gentle hand to the middle of Lestrade's back. "You're so quiet."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded. "Just tired..." He chuckled.

You: "Can you walk?" Mycroft laughed, relief flooding through him. "I don't think I'm quite up to carrying you." He hugged the man tight, glad that his brother hadn't managed to shatter their still-fragile bond.

Stranger: Lestrade laughed. "Yes, I think I can make it to the bedroom, at least."

You: "Which way is it?" Mycroft gestured further into the house, not knowing the layout yet. "Don't want to walk into the wrong room."

Stranger: "To the right, last door all the way down the hallway." Lestrade said, smiling and kissing Mycroft's cheek.

You: Mycroft turned his head and caught Lestrade's lips in a quick kiss before looping one hand over the man's waist and stumbling with him in the direction of the bedroom. They heard rapid beeping from the spare room on their way and assumed John was awake and texting.

Stranger: "I hope we didn't scare him too bad..." Lestrade frowned towards the spare room.

You: "John's resilient," Mycroft replied, trying to hide the thread of worry in his voice. "I'm sure he'll be ok. Probably blush a lot for a bit though."

Stranger: "I'll talk to him in the morning, when I'm actually clothed..." Lestrade said, shutting the door behind them into his room.

You: Mycroft hummed in response and walked them over to the bed. He gently tumbled Lestrade onto it then crawled in after him. He pulled Lestrade to him, wrapping himself around the other man. "Good night, love," Mycroft whispered.

Stranger: Lestrade kissed Mycroft's nose lightly. "Night. Love you."

You: Their breaths syncing slowly, they fell asleep. Both had their arms wrapped tightly around the other, enjoying the feel of closeness and warmth.

\--------------------------------------------------------

You: Molly, you awake? I'd like to talk to you if I can. - JW

Stranger: Yeah, I'm up. What's wrong? -MH

You: Just saw Mycroft and Greg... together. On accident. And I could see, like a mirage, me and Sherlock. You know? - JW

Stranger: Oh, God, John... I'm so sorry. -MH

You: Thanks, I guess. After I got over the embarrassment and blushing, all I can think about are all the chances I missed with Sherlock. Everything I wished I'd said. It hurts. - JW

Stranger: I hope you just mean you walked in on them kissing.... John, I know it hurts... I know you're probably dying inside, we all are, believe me. But he would want you to be happy. He wouldn't want you sulking around and just forcing yourself to live life, he would want you to do something to make yourself happy. Go to his grave and tell him everything you wished you said, maybe that would help... -MH

You: Not quite kissing, but nothing happening. I tried going back to his grave Molly. A week ago. I couldn't walk in the gates. - JW

Stranger: Would it help if I went with you? -MH

You: Maybe. Just to the gates. It would be nice knowing someone is there with me. - JW

Stranger: Want to try maybe tomorrow? I don't have to go into the lab. -MH

You: All right. Maybe doing this sooner will make me feel better. Thanks, Molly. I should let you get some sleep. - JW

Stranger: I'll text you tomorrow, okay? Night, John. Sleep well. -MH

You: Yeah. You too. - JW. John lay back on the bed after putting his phone on the nightstand. He'd said part of what he wanted to at the funeral, but not all. He couldn't, not then.

\----------------------------------------------------

Stranger: "Texting John, are you?" Sherlock said as Molly closed the last message.

You: "Yes, I was," Molly replied, snapping her phone shut. "He needed to talk and night is when you can't hide from your own thoughts."

Stranger: "Mind if I ask what he said?" Sherlock asked, sitting and crossing his legs.

You: "He misses you," Molly replied, delicately skipping over the first part of the conversation. "A lot. He has so much he wants to say. We're going to visit your grave tomorrow."

Stranger: Sherlock sighed, thinking. "Maybe I can sneak in there before you guys go... I really want to hear his voice again..."

You: "Maybe," Molly agreed. "Are you sure you'll be able to stop yourself from going to him?"

Stranger: "I have to..." Sherlock sighed and looked down. "Can you get me that picture of him? One where he isn't all hurt?"

You: "Yes, you want it to be at the graveyard?" Molly asked. "He wants me to stay at the gates while he goes in."

Stranger: "It doesn't matter where it is..." Sherlock said, looking up. "I just need to be able to see him when the urge gets too much."

You: Molly nodded and put her phone on its charger in the living room. "I'm going to go to sleep, Sherlock. Good night. And don't worry. You'll have that picture tomorrow," Molly said, yawning.

Stranger: "Thank you." Sherlock smiled at her.

You: "You're welcome," Molly said, smiling back. She waved tiredly and walked into her room, intent on sleeping the night away.

Stranger: Sherlock pulled out his phone and opened it, the screen-saver a picture of John, looking very pale laying in the hospital bed after his overdose. Sherlock ran his thumb around the edge of John's face on the screen. "I have so much I want to say to you too, John." He whispered at the picture. "I just hope you don't hate me after all of this..."

You: Molly was sliding into her bed when she remembered she hadn't deleted the texts from her phone. She didn't really want Sherlock seeing them, but decided to leave her phone where it was. He seemed to believe that what she told him was all John said.

Stranger: Sherlock looked up at Molly's phone, the screen blinking from charging. John had texted her... he could read something actually from John... Even that small thought of seeing simple words he typed warmed him a little.

You: The phone continued to blink, the little battery icon filling and refilling as it charged.

Stranger: Sherlock stood and went over to the phone, eyeing it.

You: A blue light illuminated his face, caressing the planes. The phone seemed to vibrate happily, knowing it was being regarded intensely.

Stranger: Sherlock picked it up and flipped it open, powering it up.

You: A picture of a beach with blue sky appeared on the phone. Molly's favored background. The text icon blinked, showing that one more text had been received after Molly plugged the phone in.

Stranger: Sherlock opened the message carefully, as though he may break the phone if he didn't.

You: White and black flashed across the screen, resolving into a text message from John. The light illuminated Sherlock's eyes and highlighted the moment his eyes narrowed.

Stranger: 'One more thing, Molly, before you sleep,' Sherlock read slowly, savoring each word. 'Mycroft and Lestrade... when I walked in on them... were just finishing up... having sex....' Sherlock paused before reading the last line. 'And that's when I pictured Sherlock and I, doing that. I wished I kissed him before he left...'

You: The phone creaked in distress as Sherlock's grip tightened on it. The white screen seemed to glare reproachfully at him.

Stranger: 'I wish I kissed him before he left...' Sherlock re-read that line at least thirty times. He re-read the last two lines over and over and over again after the last line sank in. He couldn't move. Everything was frozen, time wasn't moving.

You: As Sherlock stared at the phone, the light dimmed tiredly. It was conserving its energy and blanking out the screen so that the image wouldn't be burned into it.

Stranger: Sherlock forwarded the message to himself. He wanted to be able to read that every day. He had new motive to find the snipers. He wanted to kiss John. He needed to. And now he knew John would at least, kiss back...

You: The phone beeped cheerily that the message had been sent. The screen muted its light again, waiting for the next command Sherlock would enter.

Stranger: Sherlock powered off the device and opened his. He needed sleep, but he wanted to read those words once more. As he went down to the basement and laid down in bed, he read them once more as he fell asleep.

You: Molly's phone settled back on the table, energy again pouring into it. Sherlock's phone glimmered on his face, proudly displaying the words of the man who loved the man who held it.  
\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: Molly walked John up the gate and watched him carefully. He was looking up at the gateway, his eyes sad and she could have sworn he was on the edge of crying. "You okay?" She asked carefully.

You: "I don't know," John replied, his voice hitching. "Thanks again for coming with me Molly."

Stranger: "I'm happy to, John." She said, smiling. She reached a hand out and squeezed John's encouragingly.

You: John nodded at her and squeezed back before releasing her hand. He squared his shoulders and walked into the cemetery, following the path to Sherlock's grave.

Stranger: Molly watched his figure disappear. She knew Sherlock was in there somewhere, hiding near his own grave.

You: John slowed as he saw the onyx headstone and stopped at the edge of the plot. He swiped a hand over his eyes and walked up to the gravestone, patting it awkwardly. "Hi, Sh... Sherlock," John stuttered, his face flushing.

Stranger: Sherlock looked down at John, hidden up in the tree above his stone. He was hidden enough so if John looked up, he wouldn't see a thing, but through the leaves, he could see John perfectly. His heart basically stopped.

You: "I have so much to say and I don't know where to start, so I'm just going to talk. It might not make much sense," John said, swallowing as he heard the ghost of Sherlock's voice in his head saying -dull-. "But I love you and I wish I had told you this before. All those times we came so close to crossing that line, I shied back because I was afraid. I could never read you when it came to how you felt about me and I didn't want to ruin what we had. But knowing now what happened, I would have kissed you that night in Angelo's. I wouldn't have let you run from me. But I know I need to move on, eventually. Need to believe you're dead. So I don't think I'll be back here. I'm sorry."

Stranger: Sherlock's heart sank at the words. He wanted John to come back to his grave, it was the only time Sherlock could really -see- him. He bit his lip, taking in each word and recording it into his mind palace forever.

You: "I don't want to let you go," John continued. "And I know that everyone feels that way when they've lost someone. But sometimes, it feels like you're still here. I saw a bloke in the back of a cab yesterday and could have sworn it was you. His hair was cut and he wore different clothes, but he looked so much like you. Why did you call everything you did a magic trick?" John's voice rose, the anger he had buried overwhelming him. "Why did you lie to me at the end of it all? Why did you tell me you were a fraud when I knew, I knew, you weren't. You were a brilliant, amazing, wonderful man and I don't understand why you wanted to hide that from me."

Stranger: Sherlock felt his heart pound his ribs. John was mad, he knew it. 'I lied to you so you could move on, John...' Sherlock though sadly. 'I lied to you to make it easier... to make you hate me till I come back to you.... If I come back to you...' Sherlock felt tears burn his eyes but he tried to fight it. 'I love you, John.... Please, believe me...'

You: John ran a hand over his hair and the anger flowed out of him. A burrowing sadness and despair filled him, made even sharper by the knowledge that Lestrade had found his own Holmes. "You know what I saw last night?" John whispered, hand still flat on the cool stone. "I saw Mycroft and Greg happy that they'd found each other. I saw them together and whole and perfect. And I want that, Sherlock. I want that with you..."

Stranger: 'God, John... I know... I want that too... I want you...' Sherlock thought, finding it harder to fight the tears.

You: "Maybe Molly was right," John laughed hoarsely. "It really did help to get all this out. I think I may be able to heal eventually. One last time, Sherlock, I'm begging you. Please come back. Come back to me." John waited in silence at the grave, waiting for what, he didn't know.

Stranger: Sherlock, without realizing what he was doing, nearly made to jump out of the tree. He caught himself and bit his lip, giving into the tears. 'Damn you, John Watson, only you could make me feel emotions...'

You: John waited until he felt a bit silly, his heart pounding in his chest. If there was any time Sherlock would come back, now was it. At least that's how it felt to John. But the detective didn't come striding over to him, he didn't hear his velvet baritone voice, didn't see his flapping coat and dark curls and pale skin. John sighed and patted the gravestone before turning smartly and walking away.

Stranger: 'John... wait... come back...' Sherlock thought, wanting to call after him. He watched him leave, a few tears coming loose and rolling down his cheekbones.

You: John saw Molly waiting patiently at the gates, her phone propped up in her hand. As he walked closer, he could see Molly's finger move over a button and a shutter sound floated to him. "What are you doing?" John asked.

Stranger: "Texting Mycroft." She lied quickly, pocketing the phone after saving the picture.

You: "What did he say?" John asked curiously.

Stranger: "Oh, just asking if we could meet. He wants to talk about something." She lied again, nervously playing with the phone in her pocket. She still couldn't lie very well.

You: "Ok," John said, shrugging and dropping the topic. He was feeling raw and sore and wanted nothing more than to go home and lay down.

Stranger: "Shall we go, than?" She asked, placing a hand on John's shoulder.

You: "Yeah, can you drop me off at Baker Street?" John replied. "I really need to be alone right now."

Stranger: "Of course, John." Molly said, wrapping her arm around his shoulders and giving him a squeeze. "You okay?"

You: "Sure, yeah," John said, forcing a smile onto his face. "Just a little tired from all this."

Stranger: "I understand." Molly gave a worried smile to him. "It's hard..."

You: "Yes, though this helped," John answered, taking and squeezing her hand. "Thank you." He started walking towards Molly's car, dropping her hand.

Stranger: "You're welcome. I'm here for you, John." She smiled again and folded herself into the car.

You: John nodded at her and got in as well, focusing out the window and not wanting to talk. He nodded once again as Molly pulled up outside the flat and moved to get out of the car.

Stranger: Molly sighed as she watched John retreat into his flat. She sent the picture to Sherlock she had snapped of John. His hair was blown so beautifully around his face and his eyes were sparkling from the tears that had threatened to come out. The picture was perfect for Sherlock. John was beautiful. Sherlock was a lucky guy...

You: Thank you. This is perfect, Molly. - SH

Stranger: No problem. He really misses you, Sherlock. -MH

You: I know. I heard. He talked about moving on. What if I lose him? - SH

Stranger: Do you really think he, of all people, would come to that, Sherlock? After pouring his heart out to you, after pouring his heart out -about- you, do you really think you'll lose him? -MH

You: He wants to move on. Said he needs to believe I'm dead. - SH

Stranger: So what if he does move on for now? Once you come back you and I both know he'll be throwing himself in your arms. And as soon as you tell him how you feel, I doubt he'll ever let you go. Literally and physically. -MH

You: Or he'll hit me until I'm bloody. Which I would deserve. - SH

Stranger: Yes, but after, he would probably kiss you. -MH

You: I hope so. You think you could get one more picture of him for me? - SH

Stranger: Right now? -MH

You: You don't have to right now. But soon? - SH

Stranger: I can try. Anything specific? -MH

You: Maybe something a little happier? I know maybe not smiling but not sad? - SH

Stranger: I can try, but he never seems happy anymore... You can always tell he's faking. -MH

You: All right. Do your best, Molly, you always do. And thank you again. - SH

Stranger: Not a problem, Sherlock. I think John looks beautiful in that picture.. He looks so perfect. -MH

You: Yes, he does. I wish there was some way I could tell him I love him. Do you think he would believe a letter? - SH

Stranger: A letter? Sherlock, no, it's too risky! -MH

You: What if it was dated before I died? Something I wrote and gave to Mycroft or you to give to John? - SH

Stranger: Then wouldn't he question why they hadn't given it to him sooner? -MH

You: Ok, maybe it was hidden in the flat? I don't know, Molly. I just need him to know. Somehow. - SH

Stranger: If you can figure out how to hide it in the flat, that could work. -MH

You: All I would need to do would be to put it under the skull. Mrs. Hudson moves it every once in a while and she would find it. - SH

Stranger: But how, without either John nor Mrs. Hudson seeing you? -MH

You: I could sneak in in the middle of the night. I know every creaky floorboard, every way in and out of that flat. - SH

Stranger: No, too risky. If you can find out when Mrs. Hudson won't be there, I can distract John and take him out somewhere and you can do it then. -MH

You: Thank you, Molly. You are wonderful to help like this. - SH

Stranger: Sherlock, you know I'll do anything for you. But please, don't do anything stupid. -MH

You: I won't. I can't lose him now. I'll talk to Mycroft and see if he can get Mrs. Hudson out of the flat somehow. - SH

Stranger: Okay, I'll be home in a few minutes. I'm just outside your flat... er, John's flat. Let me drive. -MH

You: All right. See you then. - SH

Stranger: What is your bloody problem, Sherlock? Why would you lie to Lestrade like that about me? -MH

You: Did I really lie? I only thought to protect him in the long run. - SH

Stranger: You lied. Can you not just bear to see me happy with someone, for once? -MH

You: And how long would it last? It's been a long few hours Mycroft. If you want to fight with me, come to Molly's. - SH

Stranger: Fine, but Lestrade is coming too. -MH

You: All right. I have a few things to say to him as well. - SH

Stranger: I think you have said enough, but whatever you wish, little brother. -MH

You: See you then. And we'll see about that. - SH

\---------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: Lestrade pounded on Molly's door, standing back and returning to Mycroft's side.

You: Molly opened the door, saw the storm clouds forming on Lestrade's and Mycroft's faces, and waved them in. She saw an identical look on Sherlock's face and beat a quick retreat.

Stranger: "Lestrade. Mycroft." Sherlock said bitterly.

You: "Little brother," Mycroft said, a hint of sarcasm in his tone. Lestrade settled for nodding his head sharply in Sherlock's direction, anger in his eyes.

Stranger: "So, what do I owe the displeasure of this meeting?" Sherlock asked, standing, buttoning the button on his jacket, and strolling to the window.

You: "You know exactly what, you bloody bastard," Lestrade bit out before Mycroft could speak. "You -lied- to me. Convinced me Mycroft was a... was a bastard. You almost broke what we have."

Stranger: Sherlock snorted. "Which is what? A few meaningless nights in bed?"

You: "NO!" Lestrade yelled. "It's not meaningless and it's not been a few. I care for him a lot and he cares right back! And all you want to do is tear us apart!"

Stranger: "I was trying to save you from the pain my brother always promises in the end." Sherlock said, turning back to them.

You: "And what do you know about it, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked, his voice dangerously quiet. "What gives you the right to make choices for us?"

Stranger: "The fact that, for one, I know you both better then you know each other, and for two, that I'm right."

You: "But you aren't, brother dear," Mycroft growled. "I've never cheated on anyone. And I don't intend to just leave Greg."

Stranger: "Do you really think I believe that, Mycroft?" Sherlock growled. "I've watched you in your relationships. And I know that's what you've told everyone who asked, but I know, for a fact, it's not true."

You: Lestrade paled at Sherlock's words, hearing the ring of truth in them. He'd interrogated too many people not to understand truth and lies when he heard them. "Mycroft, he believes he's telling the truth," Lestrade said shakily.

Stranger: "I don't believe, I know! The way your clothes always carried different colored hairs each night. When you were dating that one girl, Megan, I believe her name was, you came home with brown hair on you one night, the next, blond, then the next, brown. How do you explain that? Not to mention how with each hair color you smelled different! The brown you smelled like watermelons and the blond, like roses. Explain that!" Sherlock snapped.

You: Lestrade turned to Mycroft, the pain and anger crossing his face again. "What is this? You told me you'd had two relationships in university and then stopped them," Lestrade snapped. "What is he talking about?"

Stranger: "Go on, brother dearest." Sherlock smirked. "Explain."

You: "I didn't lie," Mycroft replied. "I stopped dating after those two relationships ended badly. And I told you, I found people when I felt the need for physical companionship. None of them interested me for long, which is why Sherlock here saw so many different hair colors."

Stranger: "But you find it just a crazy random happenstance that he went from brown, to blond, right back to brown?" Sherlock asked, crossing his arms.

You: "Several people have brown hair, Sherlock," Mycroft replied testily. "As you very well know."

Stranger: "But in three days?" Sherlock snapped.

You: "Three days?" Lestrade asked, incredulously. "You went through four people in three days?"

Stranger: "Yes, he did." Sherlock growled.

You: "It was an experiment not long after I graduated university," Mycroft said, unwilling words tangling on his tongue. "I thought that multiple people might keep me interested. They did not."

Stranger: "So you lied to me then?" Lestrade said, his voice cracking. "Saying you've never cheated on anyone?"

You: "No, it's not cheating if you are with them at the same time," Mycroft replied, his hand reaching across the distance between himself and Lestrade. "And they all knew the others where there."

Stranger: "Then explain why it was never two different colored hairs on you at once? Always one color?" Sherlock growled.

You: "You assume both had long enough hair to leave one on me," Mycroft said smugly, turning back to his brother. "Never assume you know everything, little brother."

Stranger: I'm not assuming, seeing one of the brown hairs was short."

You: "Also, the few times you saw those hairs was when they hugged me afterwards. There were times they didn't. I never cheated on any of them. I always explained what I wanted up front," Mycroft said, knowing his words were probably hurting Lestrade. But he had to say them anyway, had to make him understand.

Stranger: "Mycroft, if you actually care for Lestrade, why don't you just stop lying through your teeth and tell him the bloody truth." Sherlock growled dangerously.

You: "What truth is that?" Mycroft snapped, his temper frayed almost to the breaking point.

Stranger: "Just tell him you cheated and we can finish this now!" Sherlock snapped back.

You: "I did not!" Mycroft shouted, his hands clenching into fists. Lestrade had sunk down on the couch a few minutes ago, one hand clutched to his belly. He could read both Holmes brothers and both were telling the truth and both were lying. The problem he had was he couldn't tell what they were lying about.

Stranger: "Not to mention your university relationship, Shelby!" Sherlock was shouting now too. "Was she not one of your uni girlfriends?!"

You: Mycroft's breath hitched, sudden memories he had forgotten intruding on him. He felt his legs tremble beneath him and sank down onto the armchair across from Lestrade. "Damn you," Mycroft whispered.

Stranger: "Was she, or was she not?!" Sherlock shouted.

You: "I buried that memory so deeply I forgot it," Mycroft continued, his voice hoarse. "You -know- what that did to me. Hell, you laughed enough about it at the time. And you bring it up now?"

Stranger: "Do you want to tell Lestrade here what happened?" Sherlock growled, crossing his arms.

You: "No," Mycroft bit out. "I want to bury that memory again so that it never again sees the light of day."

Stranger: "Mycroft..." Lestrade muttered, staring at him, fighting tears.

You: Mycroft turned to face Lestrade, pain and despair on his face. "You don't want to hear this," Mycroft begged him. "It.... it would ruin me. And it would be right."

Stranger: "Tell me... Mycroft..." Lestrade managed.

You: Mycroft sighed, a broken, resigned sound. He looked down at his hands, which had knotted together in his lap. "Last year of uni I was with Shelby. She was.... vibrant and sexual and very open. We had an open relationship and she often slept with others. I never felt the need to, until she decided she wanted to be exclusive to each other. It.... angered me. After all that she had done, -now- she was setting boundaries? I am not proud of what I did. But I went out and found a guy and a girl and slept with them in mine and Shelby's bed. She... found us there and stormed out. I didn't find out until later that she had been hit by a car because she hadn't been looking. She... died about a day later."

Stranger: Lestrade stood in anger, tears glistening on his cheeks. "So you did lie to me?!" Lestrade cried, taking deep breaths. "You... Your... You're..." Lestrade stopped, looking away, fists clenched.

You: "I know you won't believe me," Mycroft said sadly. "But I truly did forget that memory. I did not intentionally lie to you. And that is the only time I have ever done anything like that." Mycroft looked past Lestrade to Sherlock, letting his brother read the fury and depression in his eyes.

Stranger: "You're right.. I don't believe you..." Lestrade said, tears coming in waterfalls now. He avoided Mycroft's eyes as he spoke. "You're... You're a lying bastard... Just... don't talk to me anymore..." Lestrade walked to the door and slammed it behind him.

You: Mycroft watched him go, feeling the last of their bond snap and shatter. He sighed deeply, ran a hand through his hair, and stood slowly. He felt if he moved any faster, his bones would shatter into a million pieces. "Goodbye, Sherlock," Mycroft said flatly. "I will text you when I have more information. Hope your night was spent well." He walked out, supporting himself on the umbrella he was never without.

Stranger: Lestrade folded into the cab and gave the address of his flat to the cabbie. He watched the buildings past, tears blurring his vision. That fucking bastard....

You: Mycroft stumbled to his car, the umbrella the only thing keeping him from falling flat on his face. He absently gave the driver directions to head home, then sat back. Finally allowing the tears he'd held back to fall, Mycroft sobbed for the loss of Lestrade and the pain he'd inadvertently caused him.

Stranger: Once home, Lestrade went straight to bed. He ignored John's text messages to him as he just laid on his bed, crying hopelessly.

You: When the car stopped outside Mycroft's flat, he honestly didn't know. He was so wrapped up in the pain and loss it took him a few moments to realize that the car had stopped. He wiped a hand over his eyes, straightened his shoulders and stepped out. Once inside the protection of his home, though, Mycroft slid down to the floor against the wall and howled out his grief.

\------------------end chapter 6---------------------


	7. Chapter 7

You: Hey, Greg. Long time, no talk. What's going on? - JW

Stranger: I just want to be alone, John.... -GL

You: What's the matter? - JW

Stranger: ...Mycroft... -GL

You: What did he do? - JW

Stranger: ...it's over... -GL

You: What? I thought you guys were happy together. What happened? And when? - JW

Stranger: About two weeks ago... Found out he had lied to me... That he has cheated before... -GL

You: I'm so sorry, Greg. You should come over and we can commiserate together. - JW

Stranger: I'm in no condition to drive... -GL

You: So take a cab. They throng London. - JW

Stranger: Ok... I guess I'll be there soon... -GL

Stranger: Lestrade stood from his bed and went to the curb side in front of his flat. He hailed a cab and gave them the directions to 221B.

You: John waited until he heard the knock downstairs. He limped down to let Lestrade in and walked back upstairs with him. "I really am sorry," John muttered

Stranger: "I am too..." Lestrade mumbled, more to himself than to John. "I really loved him..."

You: "Yeah, I know the feeling," John said, clapping a hand on Lestrade's shoulder. They entered the flat and John went to the kitchen to make tea for both of them.

Stranger: Lestrade sat in the living room as John made tea. The feeling rose in him again and he broke down. He sobbed into his hands.

You: John brought the tea back and laid it on the coffee table. He sat next to Lestrade and wrapped an arm over his shoulders. "Your turn," John said quietly, pulling the man against him.

Stranger: Lestrade sobbed into John's shoulder. He felt stupid for doing this, but the pain overtook him.

You: "It's all right," John repeated, rubbing a hand over Lestrade's back. He didn't know what else to do and hoped this was enough.

Stranger: "I just want someone, John... Someone who would be and stay loyal in a relationship..." Lestrade sobbed. 'John's loyal, waiting all this time for Sherlock, a man he thinks is dead...' a voice in Lestrade's head said.

You: "I know, Greg," John replied. "And it's hard to think you've finally found it and have it ripped away. I have no idea what you're going through, but I'm truly sorry."

Stranger: "Yes you do..." Lestrade sobbed before he could stop himself. "Sherlock..."

You: "I didn't have what you did with him," John replied sadly, feeling his own tears forming. "He was my flatmate and friend, but nothing more. Not then. Not ever."

Stranger: "I'm.... I'm sorry.... I shouldn't have said that..." Lestrade sat back and looked at John sadly, tears staining his cheeks.

You: "It's ok," John replied, his own tears falling at the look on Lestrade's face. "And I say it again, only the Holmes brothers could do this to us, huh?"

Stranger: "Got that right..." Lestrade said, whipping away tears only to have new ones replace them.

You: John leaned into Lestrade, their shared pain floating between them. He didn't bother wiping his tears away. He wasn't able to stop crying.

Stranger: "What should we do, John?" Lestrade sobbed.

You: "I don't know, Greg," John sighed sadly. "I don't know how to fix this. Don't even know if its possible."

Stranger: "Fix what?" Lestrade asked, looking John in the eyes sadly.

You: "Us," John said, waving his free hand at the two of them. "We've both been broken by a Holmes brother. Shattered and twisted and cracked."

Stranger: "Maybe we could..." Lestrade swallowed hard. "...Fix each other..."

You: John chuckled dryly, his throat raw with tears. "Yeah? And how are we going to do that?"

Stranger: "Remember the... The bar?" Lestrade said between tears.

You: "Yeah," John said cautiously. "What about it?"

Stranger: "Maybe... Maybe..." Lestrade stopped, tears taking him over.

You: "Greg, what are you talking about?" John asked, shaking him gently. "Come on, spit it out."

Stranger: "Maybe if we become a..." He stopped, Rolling the word around his tongue sadly. "...A couple...

Stranger: "

You: "What?" John asked, surprised. This was the last thing he was expecting. "I thought.... that the bar was a drunk mistake we weren't repeating...?"

Stranger: "That was when we weren't both broken and we had something to regret afterwards..." Lestrade avoided John's eyes. "I understand though... If you don't want to... You know... Try..."

You: "What started you thinking about this?" John asked, deflecting the question. "From Mycroft to... me?"

Stranger: "You're just so... You stick around no matter what... I need someone like that... Someone kinda like you are, and brave, and strong... I need someone who understands my pain..." Lestrade avoided John's eyes till the last sentence.

You: John was caught in the pleading gaze, Lestrade sent to him. He licked his lips and said, haltingly, "But... Sherlock...."

Stranger: "Is dead..." Lestrade reminded him, slowly.

You: "Yes," John said sadly, drawing out the s a bit. "He's gone.... and you're not...."

Stranger: "And I won't be for a long time..." Lestrade said slowly in a sort of backwards promise.

You: "Why me?" John asked. "It can't be just that I stick around. I'm sure you can find that elsewhere."

Stranger: "You're also very... Good looking..." Lestrade said slowly, looking down at his hands. "And you seem so... I don't know what the word is I'm looking for here... Sensitive like me? I don't know... But... Just forget it... It was a stupid idea..." Lestrade said, meaning to get up.

You: "Wait," John said, placing a hand on Lestrade's shoulder. "Just so we're clear, you're not drunk?"

Stranger: "I haven't had anything to drink besides tea and water since the bar with you..." Lestrade said slowly.

You: John sucked in a deep breath and ignored the butterflies currently fighting in his stomach. "Then, yes. I want to try this," John said quietly. "I need... someone and... I do like you to begin with."

Stranger: "You... You do...?" Lestrade asked, looking at John with slight shock.

You: "I think so," John replied, meeting Lestrade's eyes. "Greg, I do remember enjoying the kiss we shared. Even though I thought it was him at the time."

Stranger: "And I enjoyed kissing you, even though I thought it was ... -Him-..."

You: "So what do you think we should do?" John asked, his voice quiet. He was not flirting in any way, simply asking an honest question

Stranger: "Should we... See how it feels... Know who it actually... Is?" Lestrade stuttered, feeling like his stomach was doing flips on a trampoline.

You: "O.... Ok," John stammered, dropping his gaze to his hands.

Stranger: "You... You ready?" Lestrade asked slowly, raising his gaze to look at John.

You: "Y... ye... yes," John replied, heart hammering against his ribs.

Stranger: "Look at me... John..." Lestrade said slowly.

You: John lifted his eyes again to meet Lestrade's, caught again.

Stranger: "You ready?" He asked in a whisper, making sure.

You: "Yes, Greg," John whispered back, his tongue dragging over his bottom lip.

Stranger: Lestrade slowly leaned in, not breaking John's eye contact.

You: John tilted his head up, waiting for Lestrade to meet his lips

Stranger: Lestrade paused an inch away, before gently claiming John's lips with his.

You: John closed his eyes as Lestrade kissed him, melting into the softness. His lips parted on a soundless sigh

Stranger: Lestrade hastily let his tongue slide in as John's lips parted. He slid it over and gently rubbed his tongue against John's.

You: John rested a hand on Lestrade's shoulder, the light pressure pulling him closer. He leaned further into the kiss, letting Lestrade explore his mouth.

Stranger: Lestrade, heart racing, leaned in a little closer as well, placing a hand on John's knee. He didnt want the kiss to go too much farther, for their first sober kiss anyway. But he was really enjoying this.

You: John was the one who broke their kiss, leaning back and panting slightly. He traced his lips with a finger, turning surprised eyes to Lestrade. "Greg...?" he asked cautiously

Stranger: "John..?" Lestrade answered, unsure if John was upset or not.

You: "That was... good," John decided, dropping his hand. "Very good."

Stranger: "A-Agreed..." Lestrade stuttered, slight relief filling him.

You: "Want to do it again?" John asked, his gaze slipping to Lestrade's lips

Stranger: "Please..." Lestrade whispered, leaning towards John.

You: John crossed the space between them first this time, pressing his lips against Lestrade's. The hand on his shoulder slid sideways to brush at Lestrade's neck.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned at the light, feathery touch. John's hands were surprisingly soft.

You: John pressed harder at Lestrade's throat, tracing the muscles trapped underneath the skin. He slowly took the kiss deeper, exploring Lestrade's mouth.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned deeper as John's tongue slid in. He raised his other hand to the back of John's neck and pulled John closer.

You: John moaned at the touch, feeling something break inside him. He started kissing Lestrade passionately, all barriers gone.

Stranger: Lestrade let John dominate the kiss. He felt like it has been forever since he did anything like that. Never like this; with nerves and passion all mixed as one.

You: John slid closer to Lestrade on the couch so that their legs were touching. He wrapped his other arm around Lestrade's waist, holding him lightly.

Stranger: Lestrade, not knowing what else to really do, leaned back on the couch, pulling John down on top of him, never breaking their kiss.

You: John crawled over him eagerly, pressing his weight onto the man. He moaned into their kiss, his fingers tight on Lestrade's shoulder.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned louder, an erection slowly forming.

You: "Greg," John breathed, pulling his head back. "How far do you want to go with this?"

Stranger: "No idea..." Lestrade panted, feeling his erection starting to strain on the fabric. "You?"

You: "I don't know," John replied, a small laugh working its way out of his throat. "I stopped thinking a while ago."

Stranger: "Me too..." Lestrade chuckled sadly. "It's all up to you, John. I know you never did anything like this to a ... To a man...."

You: "And I don't care anymore," John said harshly. "I don't hurt when I'm kissing you."

Stranger: "And I don't hurt when your kissing me, John." Lestrade let a small smile dance on his lips.

You: "Then what do you say we keep going?" John suggested, a mirroring smile crossing his face

Stranger: "Like I said, John. It's all up to you. I'm fine with however far you want to go."

You: John didn't answer, just leaned down and took Lestrade's mouth again. He decided to stop worrying and just feel. Decided to let the moment unfold as it would.

Stranger: Lestrade lifted his hands up and places them on John's waist. He testily moved one hand in, placing it on John's inside thigh.

You: John hummed, moving his leg a bit to allow more contact in case Lestrade decided to move. He smiled wider against Lestrade's lips

Stranger: Lestrade cupped John and gently began palming it. His other hand moved up, lifting John's shirt.

You: John leaned back and allowed Lestrade to slip his shirt over his head. He ran his hands down Lestrade's shoulders and to his buttons, slowly working them free.

Stranger: Lestrade went back to palming John as he worked. He placed small kisses on John's neck.

You: "Oh, that feels good," John muttered, tilting his head to the side to kiss Lestrade's neck.

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled then nipped down on the soft skin under his jaw.

You: "I want.... more," John said, shivering. "I want to feel your skin on mine."

Stranger: "Then get my shirt off, doctor." Lestrade whispered, full of lust.

You: John finished unbuttoning the shirt and shoved it down Lestrade's arms. Urgency now, everything was urgent and warm and he almost couldn't handle it

Stranger: Lestrade went for John's jeans buttons and tore them apart.

You: John yelped in surprise, his hips bucking into Lestrade's. "Christ," he hissed. "I don't even know what to say anymore.... just... don't stop...."

Stranger: "I won't." Lestrade growl. He yanked John's pants down around his anckles.

You: John kicked his legs, dropping his pants on the floor. He leaned down to kiss Lestrade's neck and then bite at his collarbone.

Stranger: "God!" Lestrade hissed. "John..."

You: "Greg, I don't know..." John said hesitantly. "What next?"

Stranger: "Take off... Mine..." Lestrade hissed as he hooked thumbs under John's waist band in his underwear.

You: John moved his hands slowly down Lestrade's chest and stopped at his waistband. He undid them and hooked his fingers over the material, sliding them down.

Stranger: Lestrade kicked them off as they were removed. He slowly slid John's underwear down.

You: John toed his pants off and heard them drop to the ground. He settled back down on Lestrade, feeling his skin warm against his own.

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled and ran his hands down John's sides. He slowly flipped them over so he was on top, and kissed him lightly on the nose.

You: John forced himself to relax after the sudden movement and ran a hand over Lestrade's cheek bone. "Well, this is different," John muttered, trying to find something to hold onto in the welter of new emotions and sensations.

Stranger: "Good different?" Lestrade kissed his neck and nipped at the soft skin.

You: "I think so," John replied, his voice hesitant. He groaned and tilted his head back, instinctively allowing Lestrade more access to his neck.

Stranger: "Are you sure, love? I mean... I'll stop..." Lestrade pulled back, looking at John longingly.

You: "No, don't stop," John said, his thumb caressing Lestrade's cheekbone. "Just... slow?"

Stranger: "Of course." Lestrade smiled, bringing his hands up to John's waist and kissing him softly.

You: John melted into the kiss again, letting Lestrade explore his mouth. He could feel his skin tingling, heating, and it felt wonderful.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned gently into John's mouth, pressing his tongue against John's and noting the taste.

You: Pressing his hands into Lestrade's waist, John stroked his skin. He explored the feel, tracing the ribs and the muscle underneath.

Stranger: Lestrade's hands slowly traced down to John's thighs. He paused and kissed John deeper, letting his hands move only slightly in.

You: John bucked up into the touch, his skin supremely sensitive. He blushed and pulled back from the kiss, looking to the side. "Sorry," he muttered.

Stranger: "Don't be." Lestrade laughed, running a few fingers over John's cheek.

You: John looked back at him and nodded, the tension leaving his face. He leaned back up and licked into Lestrade's mouth again. He traced his tongue over Lestrade's teeth and the roof of his mouth then sucked gently at his tongue.

Stranger: "Oh my..." Lestrade chuckled, having a little trouble with John's mouth on his. His hand still on John's thigh moved in and cupped John's length.

You: At the touch, John's head whipped back, his mouth open in a gasp. "Oh, christ, Greg," John hissed, his hips bucking up again.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled. "You like?" He asked, palming John lightly.

You: "Yes," John admitted, eyes darkening with lust. Moving his hands down, John gripped Lestrade's hips and pulled him close. "That feels good."

Stranger: "Want to get closer?" Lestrade nipped John's bottom lip, pressing his chest harder into John's.

You: "Closer than naked in each other's arms with your hand wrapped around me?" John asked with a touch of sarcasm. "What do you mean?"

Stranger: "I think you know what I mean." Lestrade grinned, his eyes darkening, his hand giving John's length a light pump. "What do you say?"

You: The hidden meaning behind the seemingly innocent words crashed through John's mind and his whole body froze in sudden fear. His eyes widened and he couldn't break Lestrade's gaze. "No, wait. I... I can't. Not yet....." John whispered.

Stranger: "Oh, come on John." Lestrade pretended to pout, getting his face closer to John's.

You: John shook his head mutely, suddenly aware of the weight ranged over him. Weight that he would have a hard time shifting if he needed to.

Stranger: "Please?" Lestrade begged. "I need it right now..."

You: "I can't," John finally choked out. "I can't go that far yet..."

Stranger: "Then how far can we go?" Lestrade asked slowly.

You: "Just... touch for now?" John suggested tentatively. He knew he could handle that. Had enjoyed it immensely, really.

Stranger: "Okay, if that's all..." Lestrade said, kissing John's cheek and pumping his hand a little.

You: John smiled at him, relieved, and rubbed his hands over Lestrade's back. He could feel the flexing of the muscles as Lestrade rubbed him.

Stranger: Lestrade nipped John's ear, tugging at it and chuckling.

You: "Why are you laughing?" John asked, breathlessly. He was breathing heavier now, the fear completely subsumed underneath the pleasure he was feeling.

Stranger: "You're adorable." Lestrade muttered, feeling John tense up under his touch.

You: John shook his head and laughed. "Adorable is a fluffy kitten or a teddy bear," he said. "How am I adorable?"

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled again and pulled back to look at John. "Your eyes... your smile... the way you light up and the way you're just so... innocent. It's adorable. I guess you're a fluffy kitten, then." He laughed.

You: John laughed again, all the tension finally leaving him. The picture was so silly, it made him completely relax. He pressed up into Lestrade, kissing him harder. He wrapped his legs around Lestrade's and tried to connect with him along every point of his body.

Stranger: Lestrade ground his hips lightly, waiting for John's reaction. He bit John's bottom lip in his mouth and ran his hands over John.

You: John groaned, arching into the hands running over him. His mind fogged over, a warm blanket covering his mind. "More, Greg," John whispered, forgetting what he said earlier. Forgetting why he said it. "Please, I changed my mind. Want you."

Stranger: "You want me to...?" Lestrade asked, running a hand down and circling John's entrance.

You: "Want you to do whatever you want," John replied, throwing his head back. "Want to feel something other than the pain. You give me that."

Stranger: "You do the same to me... John, please, keep begging... I like it..." Lestrade slowly slipped a single finger into John and moved it around.

You: "Greg, that feels good," John groaned. "Please, deeper. I need to feel you deeper."

Stranger: "Emmmm, John..." Lestrade moaned, pulling his finger out and lining his erection up. "You ready?"

You: "Stop asking questions," John said. "Just please, keep going. Need you inside me."

Stranger: Lestrade slowly entered, throwing his head back and moaning loudly, almost screaming John's name.

You: John clutched tightly at Lestrade's shoulders at the invading pressure, forcing his body to relax around him. The pain lasted for several seconds then eased. He moved his legs higher, wrapping them tightly around Lestrade's waist and licking at his throat.

Stranger: "John... God, John..." Lestrade moaned. "You're so tight..."

You: "Move, already," John whimpered, grinding his hips into Lestrade's. He bit at the skin over the man's collar bone then laved his tongue over the mark.

Stranger: Lestrade took a deep, shuddering breath at John's voice. He slowly began to pump, moaning John's name over and over.

You: John replied in kind, chanting Lestrade's name mixed in with pleas and mores. He continued kissing and sucking at the skin of Lestrade's neck, the sensations starting to overwhelm him. "So good, needed this," John sighed. "Didn't know how much I needed this. God, thank you."

Stranger: "I needed this too, John... You feel so good... God... John..." Lestrade pumped faster. "God, John!"

You: "Hearing you say my name like that is distracting as hell," John mumbled, moving his head to suck at the point of Lestrade's shoulder. "You keep doing it and I'm not going to last long."

Stranger: "So I should say it more?" Lestrade chuckled, bothering his bottom lip and he ran his hands down to John's thighs and pulled him closer, forcing himself in farther.

You: "God, yes," John groaned, his mouth opening in a silent scream as Lestrade worked deeper. "Greg, harder," John begged.

Stranger: "I'm so close..." Lestrade moaned, pumping more urgently.

You: "Me too," John admitted. He screamed Greg's name at a particularly deep thrust, his voice echoing off the walls of the room.

Stranger: "God.... JOHN!" Lestrade screamed, his orgasm bursting into John.

You: John groaned, surprise and awe in his voice. He could feel the warm feeling filling him up and it sent him over the edge. He came with Greg's name on his lips, slicking them both with the fluid.

Stranger: "Oh my god... John..." Lestrade moaned, feeling the liquid cover them. "You're so... amazing..."

You: "Greg..." John said wonderingly, his hand ghosting over Lestrade's cheek. It was the only word he could force past his throat, choked with so many emotions he couldn't keep track.

Stranger: "John?" Lestrade pulled back and looked at him, lovingly.

You: "Yeah?" John asked, still breathing hard. He was caught in Lestrade's gaze again, feeling completely vulnerable and open underneath the green gaze.

Stranger: "How are you?" Lestrade whispered, kissing him gently.

You: "Good," John replied, moving his lips against Lestrade's. He took a moment to think about those lips, how soft they were and how they moved so deliciously against his, before saying, "That was amazing. You are amazing and I think I need you... Will you stay here tonight?"

Stranger: "You mean that?" Lestrade breathed, smiling widely.

You: "Yeah, if you want to," John replied, smiling back at him. "I don't want to let you go just yet."

Stranger: "Do I get to sleep with you?" Lestrade smiled, pulling out of John at last.

You: John whimpered a bit at the loss of pressure and replied, "Yes. I want... I want someone with me. Wrapped around me."

Stranger: "That would be amazing." Lestrade chuckled. "I need that so bad..."

You: "Should probably clean up first," John replied, relief flooding through him. He didn't want to be alone anymore. "You want the shower first?"

Stranger: "Yes, but I want you with me." Lestrade smiled.

You: John swallowed, nervous again. He fought it down and really thought about it. Did he want to shower with Lestrade? Do something that... intimate? Yes, he did John decided. "Ok, that sounds good," John said.

Stranger: "Then come on." Lestrade sat up and pulled John up as well. "Come on." He whispered.

You: John nodded and pointed the way to the bathroom, walking with one hand held in Lestrade's.

Stranger: Lestrade shut the door behind them and turned on the water, letting the steam fill the room. He pulled John into the warm water and pressed him to the wall, looking at him lovingly. "Why didn't we do this before?" He whispered, smiling.

You: "Because you were happy before," John whispered back. "And all I could see was... -him-. But I think I can finally let him go."

Stranger: "John... I'm happy now..." Lestrade said, pulling back a little and letting the ping of hurt in his voice. "I'm not just doing this because I'm upset... I think it's good you can finally let him go, I can help.."

You: "I'm glad to know this made you happy," John replied. "That you didn't use me even though I kind of did that to you. Though I am happy in this moment, too."

Stranger: "Please... Don't tell me you're just using me... Tell me you're doing this because you want this..." Lestrade stepped back from John, a little hurt.

You: "It started out as both," John admitted guiltily, looking down. "And then it stopped being about stopping the hurt and became enjoying your touch. Enjoying you."

Stranger: "So, are you happy with me?" Lestrade asked slowly.

You: "Very, Greg," John replied, stepping forward hesitantly. "I am... well, I guess overjoyed covers it. I am happy that we found this."

Stranger: "Will you... be with me, John?" Lestrade asked slowly, taking John's waist.

You: "Yes," John whispered, closing the last bit of distance and hugging Lestrade close. "No doubts, yes."

Stranger: "Good." Lestrade kissed John softly. He pulled back and smiled.

You: John gave him an answering smile then turned to pull both of them under the water. He ran his fingers over Lestrade's skin, learning the soft and rough patches, the curves of his muscles.

Stranger: "I love..." Lestrade paused, looking into John's eyes gently. "I love.. You..."

You: "Really?" John asked breathlessly. He smiled at Lestrade's nod and replied, "I care about you, a lot. I don't think it's love yet, but it could become that."

Stranger: "Then I will wait for it to be that." Lestrade leaned down closer, taking John's hips.

You: "You know he's always going to have a piece of me, of my heart?" John asked hesitantly. "Are you ok with that?"

Stranger: Lestrade ran his hands up and down John's sides. "I understand... -He-..." Lestrade paused, swallowing roughly. "-He- will always have a part of mine, you understand that right?"

You: "Yes," John laughed without humor. "They know how to latch on and keep bits of you, don't they? Though I guess it doesn't matter anymore. We can create new pieces."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded, tears burning at his eyes. "Although I guess we both have to break away a few pieces... first, you know?"

You: "Like what?" John asked, stepping under the water again. He rinsed his hair clean and stepped forward to run his fingers through Lestrade's.

Stranger: "The pieces they had... broke themselves..." Lestrade said, fighting the pain as it re-flooded him. "Latched themselves onto..."

You: "Onto each other?" John suggested. He leaned up to kiss Lestrade as he saw tears gathering in the man's eyes. "I'm glad they did."

Stranger: "I'm glad ours did..." Lestrade forced a smile. "But I want to break the pieces that still wished Mycroft was here... He's just a..." Lestrade shook his head, looking away.

You: "Just give it time, Greg," John calmed him, pulling him into a hug. "I'll be here to help you."

Stranger: "Thank you, John..." Lestrade smiled as a few tears were released. "I want to help you too..."

You: "You have," John smiled. "You have no idea how much." He pressed a kiss to the hollow of Lestrade's throat and stepped back, gesturing to the water with a grin.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled and stepped towards it.

You: After finishing their shower and towelling off, John led the way upstairs to his bedroom. He pulled out a pair of pajama pants and a t-shirt then turned to looked at Lestrade. "I don't think any of my clothes will fit you," he said quietly.

Stranger: Lestrade stepped forward and took the clothes from John's hand, throwing them onto a chair in the corner. "I don't think you'll need those." He smiled.

You: "A... All right," John said, stammering only a bit. He laid down in the bed and felt the bed dip when Lestrade joined him. Even though he was expecting it, he still jumped slightly when he felt Lestrade touch him.

Stranger: Lestrade noticed the slight jump and chuckled, wrapping John in his arms tighter.

You: "Sorry," John apologized again. "This isn't.... something I've done for a while. Give me a minute to relax..."

Stranger: "Have you ever... with a man?" Lestrade asked slowly, kissing John's back.

You: "No..." John replied quietly. "I meant with a girlfriend. Though I usually didn't lay naked with her. Too self-conscious sometimes. Especially after.... the scar."

Stranger: "John... Don't be self-conscious. You're beautiful. And the scar only adds to it." Lestrade purred.

You: "Yeah, cause a raised crater on the skin is lovely," John muttered sarcastically, turning his head into his pillow.

Stranger: "Hey..." Lestrade said seriously, leaning over John to look at him. "Hey... Come on, John... I love it... I think it adorable..."

You: "Adorable?" John asked flatly. "It's a mess. The soldier who removed the bullet wasn't a doctor and it's a miracle that my shoulder isn't more torn up than it is."

Stranger: "It only makes you that much more special... John, it's a mark that shows what a miracle you are." Lestrade whispered, running a finger over the lump of skin.

You: John moaned softly at the touch. All of his girlfriends had avoided mentioning the wound and wouldn't look at the scar if they could help here. And here, Lestrade was saying it made him special. Important.

Stranger: "John, you could have died from this." He ran his finger to the center of the scar. "It's a miracle you're alive... You're a miracle, John."

You: John turned to face Lestrade, tears falling gently down his face. "You.... you think so?" he asked, voice hoarse.

Stranger: Lestrade shook his head slowly. "I know so, John." He whispered, reaching up to whip away the tears that ran down John's face. "I know so..."

You: "Greg, how many parts of me are you going to heal tonight?" John asked wonderingly. He leaned in to press a chaste kiss to Lestrade's lips, trying to convey his gratitude.

Stranger: "What do you mean, John?" Lestrade asked, kissing John's lips slowly, then going down to kiss his scar.

You: John moaned again, his hand fisting into the sheets. "You loved me, eased my fears about my scar, what are you going to do next? You.... you saved bits of me that were disappearing." John faltered, trying to explain the feeling he had and getting the sense he was failing.

Stranger: "I'll do whatever you want me to, John. I want to fix you. I want to fix your heart..." Lestrade whispered.

You: John pulled him close, giving up on words for now. Touch conveyed what he wanted to say so much better. His fingers ghosted over Lestrade's skin, pressing and teasing. He kissed Lestrade tenderly.

Stranger: "I told you, John... I love you..." Lestrade whispered as John kissed him again.

You: "Greg, I don't deserve you," John whispered against his lips. "But I will keep you for as long as I can. I think I'm starting to fall for you."

Stranger: "John, if anything, I don't deserve you..."

You: "Then we're in the same boat," John replied, a bit whimsically. "So let's stop talking and just feel now."

Stranger: Lestrade cupped John's face in his hands. "Agreed." He kissed John slowly, not deepening the kiss.

You: John hummed into the kiss, revelling in the sensation. He kept it light as well, wanting to just feel and not get overwhelmed.

Stranger: Lestrade sent one hand down to rub John's scar lovingly. He traced the edge of it as John kissed him. This scar was John's miracle.

You: John tangled his legs languidly in Lestrade's, melding his body to the other man's. He dropped his head into the crook of Lestrade's neck and just breathed him in.

Stranger: "Do I smell good?" Lestrade laughed.

You: "Yeah," John replied. "Kinda musky and spicy. And I can smell me on your skin. It's fascinating."

Stranger: "When we were at the bar... you said I smelled.. Like him... That doesn't bother you too much, does it? Will it? I'll... I'll change if I need to to keep you happy, John." Lestrade muttered, feeling John's lips against his neck as John talked.

You: "No, it's all right," John replied, nuzzling into his neck. "I think I only smelled him because I was drunk and I wanted to. I like your scent, Greg. Don't change."

Stranger: Lestrade grinned. "I'm glad I don't have to change for you, love." Lestrade kissed his head.

You: "Me too," John laughed, hugging Lestrade close to him again. He turned suddenly serious, a thought flickering through his mind. "You won't regret this in the morning?"

Stranger: "Never." Lestrade pulled back and looked at John. "I don't just tell anyone I love them... Not unless I really mean it.."

You: John sighed and relaxed again. "Good," John told him. "I don't want you to regret this happening. I won't, Greg." He nuzzled into Lestrade's neck again, just resting his head on Lestrade's shoulder.

Stranger: "I'm falling asleep..." Lestrade said slowly, closing his eyes and breathing John in.

You: "Sleep, then," John replied, his voice thick with sleep. "I'll be here when you wake up. Good night, Greg."

Stranger: "Good night, John." Lestrade smiled and kissed John's nose.

You: John smiled, his lips curving against Lestrade's neck. He breathed out a sigh and closed his eyes, falling into a dreamless sleep.

\---------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: Any new leads? -SH

You: Perhaps. Anthea has found a name and location of the second sniper. Gary King, Vancouver Canada. - MH

Stranger: Is he in Canada now? -SH

You: We believe so. - MH

Stranger: Come over so we can plan the next move. -SH

You: Molly's flat? - MH

Stranger: Course. -SH

You: 20 minutes. - MH

Stranger: Good. -SH

You: Mycroft slipped his phone back into his pocket, his teeth clenching. He hadn't seen Greg in two weeks and he felt like screaming. But, he straightened his shoulders, grabbed his umbrella, and headed out to his car.

Stranger: Sherlock opened the door, seeing it was Mycroft, and let him in.

You: "Why did you want me here?" Mycroft asked flatly. He stood just inside the doorway, trying to bury the memories that rose.

Stranger: "We need to plan our next move, Mycroft." Sherlock said, shutting the door and walking over to sit in an armchair.

You: "And your vendetta needs my personal attention why?" Mycroft asked, standing behind the couch and resting his hands upon the arched back.

Stranger: "You know I need your help with this." Sherlock hissed.

You: "Which I can give very easily over the phone or through Anthea," Mycroft countered. "So why have me come over here?"

Stranger: "It's easier to do in person. Now stop pouting over your lost boyfriend and help me." Sherlock growled, crossing his legs.

You: Mycroft's breath hitched, memories of Lestrade invading his mind. "As long as you don't gripe over yours," he said smoothly, covering the shock and tremors.

Stranger: Sherlock's fists clenched tightly, digging his nails in his palm. "I won't." Sherlock snarled, hiding his hands.

You: "Anthea has found the trail of this sniper. It leads from here to New York, then Chicago, then into Canada. His final destination was Vancouver. And he appears to still be there," Mycroft explained. "If you hurry, he may still be there."

Stranger: "Then I guess we are going to Canada." Sherlock said, playing a small smile.

You: "We?" Mycroft repeated. "What are you talking about? I don't do legwork." His lips lifted in a sneer on the last word.

Stranger: "Well, you will this time." Sherlock stood and paced to the window.

You: "Why?" Mycroft asked simply, his distaste and anger flowing through the word.

Stranger: "Mycroft, I need you to help. I'm not happy about it, but I need you to help me so I can go back to-" He cut off short and smirked. "We're going to Canada."

You: "Very well. I will help you this once," Mycroft snapped. "When do you want to leave, -dear- brother?"

Stranger: "Tomorrow." Sherlock said, turning back to him.

You: "You should have Molly contact.... Greg to let him know to watch John," Mycroft said quietly. "Since we both won't be here." He smothered the pain Lestrade's name brought him, trying to erase all the emotions.

Stranger: "Why don't you just do it?" Sherlock asked, walking over to the table and picking up his cell phone.

You: "Because he asked me not to talk to him again," Mycroft said stiffly. "And I'm going to honor his request. Though, I guess you could call him."

Stranger: "I'll call him right now, if you want." Sherlock smirked, waving his phone.

You: Mycroft waved his hand airily, trying not to show how much he wanted to hear Lestrade's voice on his face.

Stranger: Sherlock pressed a few buttons on his phone and turned it on speaker. He smirked up at Mycroft as it rang.

You: "Hello?" Lestrade whispered sleepily into the phone.

Stranger: "Hello, Lestrade. Sherlock here." Sherlock smiled up at his brother, seeing the pain he was trying to hide.

You: "What do you want? I was sleeping," Lestrade whispered. The sound of sheets sliding against each other came over the phone.

Stranger: "Mycroft here and I are going to Canada." Sherlock purred.

You: "Have fun then," Lestrade snapped. There was silence for a moment and then John's voice came over the phone, "Greg, what are you doing? Who's calling you -now-?"

Stranger: Sherlock's breath caught in his throat at John's voice. "J-John..?" He whispered.

You: "Yes," Lestrade told him, an edge of glee in his voice. "And if we're done, I'd like to go back to him."

Stranger: "Go back to-" Sherlock cut off, anger flowing through him. "What. Have. You. Done?" He growled.

You: "What do you think?" Lestrade whispered angrily. "What I wanted to."

Stranger: "Get. Your hands. Off. John." Sherlock growled, anger taking him over. He was shaking.

You: "No," Lestrade said simply. "You caused this and I'm not stopping it. And I'm not sorry for it."

Stranger: "Lestrade, I swear. Get away. From. John."

You: "Or what?" he challenged. "You'll kill me again? Destroy any feelings I have for someone? I don't think so. You can't."

Stranger: Sherlock looked up at Mycroft, who was smiling. "He's mine." He snarled.

You: "Not anymore," Lestrade said, happiness bubbling through his voice. "He's mine now. And he's happy."

Stranger: "You're lying." Sherlock hissed.

You: "Feel that, you bastard?" Lestrade growled at him. "That's what you put me through. And like you, I'm not lying."

Stranger: "This is different. You better get away from -my- John." Sherlock was shaking with anger.

You: "No, it's not," Lestrade replied. "And I won't. I love him and you can't stop that."

Stranger: "He loves..." Mycroft whispered, his smirk fading.

You: "Yes, I do," Lestrade answered, hearing Mycroft's whisper.

Stranger: Mycroft sank into a chair. Sherlock hissed again, "He will never love you, Lestrade. As soon as I come back, he'll be running to me."

You: "Maybe," Lestrade agreed. "And maybe not. He's already admitted to caring about me. Maybe that will be enough, when you come back."

Stranger: "Lestrade, stop this." Sherlock's heart was sinking faster with each passing second.

You: "Why?" Lestrade asked bitterly. "So that he and I can both be lost and alone and hurting? No."

Stranger: "Unlike you, John won't be alone and lost forever." Sherlock growled.

You: "Low, even for you," Lestrade snapped. "I'm not going to leave him."

Stranger: "You better." Sherlock did all but yell.

You: "How many times do I have to tell you?" Lestrade sighed wearily. "No. You set this in motion the moment you decided to come between Mycroft and me. Deal with it."

Stranger: Sherlock sighed as the line went dead.

You: Mycroft stared into space above the couch, trying to wrap his mind around a world in which Lestrade and John were lost to them. It was... painful.

Stranger: "I'm going to kill him..." Sherlock growled, leaning on the table.

You: "Don't," Mycroft said, rubbing a hand over his eyes. "He's right. You all but pushed him at John. If you had left well enough alone...."

Stranger: "I saved him from pain and he goes and stabs my heart!" Sherlock shouts at Mycroft angrily. "I saved him from YOU!"

You: "Which he didn't need," Mycroft replied. "I was never going to hurt him. I loved him. I still love him."

Stranger: "Oh please. You never loved anyone..." Sherlock hissed.

You: Mycroft shook his head tiredly and said, "Yes, I have. You just don't want to see it. And you only broke us apart because you were hurting from missing John."

Stranger: "Name one person you loved!" Sherlock snapped. "And it's obvious he's not missing me...."

You: "Mother, you, Lestrade," Mycroft listed. "And he is. He's just reaching out to someone. Reaching out to ease the ache losing you caused."

Stranger: "Someone beside family or Lestrade." Sherlock sank onto the couch. "He wouldn't do that..."

You: "There's been no one important enough," Mycroft explained. "And why not? He's hurt and in mourning. Greg is the same. It's natural for people to reach out and comfort one another."

Stranger: "Then you see how I can say you never really loved anyone." Sherlock dropped his face into his hands.

You: "No, because I have," Mycroft countered. "And what about you, Sherlock. Can you really justify saying you love John? How many people have you loved?"

Stranger: "Love is a boring emotion. I don't have emotions... but John is the only one I can't control them around. He's different from anyone and everyone else. He's the only one I love." Sherlock said slowly.

You: "If you don't have emotions, you can't love," Mycroft pointed out reasonably.

Stranger: "John is the only one who can bring out my emotions... I have them, I just trained my body not to use them. But I can't ignore the ones for John. I've tried... it's just not possible." Sherlock said slowly.

You: "And that's how I felt around Greg," Mycroft said quietly. "Every single time I was with him. And you ruined it."

Stranger: "And he ruined me." Sherlock muttered.

You: "Which only happened because you lashed out first," Mycroft said. "If you had left well enough alone, John would still be waiting for you."

Stranger: "I'm sorry..." Sherlock said barely above a whisper.

You: "I know, brother," Mycroft replied softly. "You hid from your emotions from so long you had no idea how to deal with the intense ones. And you lashed out to hurt those around you like you'd been hurt."

Stranger: "Can I do anything to fix it..?" Sherlock muttered.

You: "I don't know," Mycroft replied honestly. "Short of going to John now and telling him you're alive, I don't think you can change this."

Stranger: "Oh..." Sherlock said slowly.

You: "Oh?" Mycroft said suspiciously. "That's all you have to say? You can't tell him, Sherlock. It will get him killed."

Stranger: "I'm not..." Sherlock muttered. "I want to... but I can't..."

You: "Good," Mycroft nodded. "You'll have your chance once we make everyone safe."

Stranger: "I know... I have to get him back..." Sherlock said at length. "So, about Canada......."

You: "I'll have Anthea get us seats on a plane," Mycroft said. He typed a few quick sentences into his phone and sent the text to his assistant.

Stranger: "Is there anything I can do to make it up to you, Mycroft?" The words sounded forced.

You: "Not right now," Mycroft said. "But if the chance arises, making things right with Greg would be nice."

Stranger: Sherlock sighed deeply. "We should pack.."

You: "Yes," Mycroft agreed. He walked to the door and sent one final sentence over his shoulder. "Heathrow airport, three hours. Goodbye, Sherlock."

Stranger: "Later, Mycroft." Sherlock retreated to the basement.

You: Mycroft went home to pack his suitcase, sighing at the need to do so. He really hated doing legwork, which is why he usually got Sherlock to do it. About half an hour later, he had his driver take him to the airport.

Stranger: Sherlock finished packing and got into the cab. "Where do you need to go?" The cabbie asked to him. "Baker Street..."Sherlock answered. He had to see John one more time before he left.

You: Mycroft worked his way through airport security and sat in an uncomfortable plastic chair, waiting for Sherlock. He checked his watch and saw that they had a little under two hours before their plane left. He only hoped Sherlock made it.

Stranger: The driver pulled to 221 on the other side of the street. Sherlock watched as John and Lestrade stepped out. He was smiling. They were both smiling, and it killed him. "You getting out?" the cabbie asked. "No, to Heathrow airport, please." Sherlock said. They pulled away from the flat and Sherlock watched as John pulled Lestrade closer and kissed him.

You: Mycroft was tapping his foot impatiently, annoyed that he had to sit here and wait. It was starting to worry him that Sherlock had not shown up yet, so he pulled his phone out and sent a text to him.

Stranger: Just outside. Had a detour. -SH

You: Sherlock, tell me you didn't talk to John. - MH

Stranger: No. I watched them... kiss... -SH

You: They... what? - MH

Stranger: Kissed. -SH

You: God. You know, if you were right here, I'd have a hard time not punching you. Did he at least look happy? - MH

Stranger: Very. -SH

You: That's something at least. Hurry up through security. They are going to be boarding our plane soon. - MH

Stranger: Just got through. -SH

You: Mycroft saw Sherlock striding through the terminal and waved to get his attention.

Stranger: Sherlock made his way over to him.

You: "You shouldn't have gone to the flat," Mycroft chided him. "What if they saw you?"

Stranger: "Don't worry, they were too busy snogging." Sherlock said angrily, setting his bag down on a chair.

You: Mycroft closed his eyes against the flash of hurt and regret that pinged in his chest. "As long as he's happy," Mycroft whispered to himself.

Stranger: "And as long as John's safe." Sherlock added quietly.

You: Mycroft slanted a look at Sherlock, surprised to hear him say something like that. "You'd let him stay with Greg if he were safe?" Mycroft asked quietly.

Stranger: Sherlock sighed. "I'd do anything... As long as John is safe..."

You: Mycroft nodded and sat back, waiting for the next half hour until they were called to board their plane.

Stranger: Sherlock took the seat next to him, running his hand through his hair.

You: Mycroft sat silently, staring out the window. He really didn't want to talk about anything right now. He just let memories of Greg wash through his mind

Stranger: Sherlock noticed Mycroft bothering his bottom lip. "You okay there?" He asked slowly, starting to notice the little dab of blood.

You: "Not really," Mycroft replied dryly. "But I have no choice, so yeah. Why? Concern, little brother?"

Stranger: "You're bleeding." Sherlock indicated his own bottom lip to avoid touching Mycroft's.

You: "So I am," Mycroft replied, licking the blood of. "Your point?"

Stranger: "Are you going to be this bitter with me the whole trip?" Sherlock asked, shifting slightly and looking around the gate they sat in.

You: "Very possibly," Mycroft chuckles dryly. "After all, what do I have to be happy about with you?"

Stranger: "Not much." Sherlock admit. "But remember, I'm hurting too."

You: Mycroft sent him a dry look, not needing the reminder. "True," he conceded. "I shall endeavor to keep the sarcastic comments to a minimum."

Stranger: "Like that one there?" Sherlock sneared, crossing his legs and pulling out his phone.

You: Mycroft sighed and leaned his head back against the headrest. They had a very long flight ahead of them, Anthea finding them a nonstop flight to Vancouver.

Stranger: Sherlock powdered up the device and looked at the screen. He had changed his background to the one of John in the graveyard. He was so perfect...

You: Mycroft tilted his head slightly to look at Sherlock's phone. He was curious as to what caused the change he felt in his brother and his eyes fell on an image of John. Ah, that would be it

Stranger: Sherlock sighed deeply and caressed the picture of John's face with his thumb. He felt his eyes burning slightly.

You: "You all right?" Mycroft asked quietly, all scorn and derision gone from his voice.

Stranger: "No..." Sherlock said, pinching the bridge of his nose and closing his eyes.

You: "I am sorry," Mycroft told him. "No matter how angry I am, I am still sorry you lost him."

Stranger: Those words hit Sherlock in the gut. The tears won and filled his eyes. "I.... Lost him..." Sherlock stuttered slowly.

You: Mycroft sighed and placed a gentle hand on Sherlock's knee. "But you have a chance of winning him back," Mycroft said slowly. "You have hope."

Stranger: "Not if he... Starts loving Lestrade..." Sherlock sniffled.

You: "Even if he does, he may still choose you," Mycroft whispered. "Hold to hope even if its all you have. Its more than I have."

Stranger: "How so?" Sherlock asked, slowly looking to his brother with sad eyes.

You: "Greg won't come back to me," Mycroft said. He looked out the window, not wanting to meet Sherlock's eyes. "Even if he doesn't end up staying with John, he won't choose me again."

Stranger: "Why do you say that, Mycroft?" Sherlock brushed a tear that was running his cheek only to have it replaced by a new one.

You: "He hates me," Mycroft whispered. "After hearing... what he did, he hates me."

Stranger: "And it's my fault..." Sherlock doubled over so his face was in his hands.

You: "Maybe one day, we'll get a chance to fix this," Mycroft said meditatively. "Until then, we should focus on what's important."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded but didn't raise his head. He just wanted to stay like this forever and let the world pass under them.

You: Several hours passed in silence until the pilot announced that they were nearing Vancouver. Mycroft nudged Sherlock gently, prodding him awake.

Stranger: "Humm?" Sherlock asked, looking at Mycroft as he woke, blinding the tiredness away.

You: "We're almost there," Mycroft told him, nodding out the window. The lights of the city were shining far below them.

Stranger: "Ok than." Sherlock straightened up and blinked a few more times. "Do we know who's sniper this is anyways? Mrs. Hudson or John's?"

You: "Mrs. Hudson's," Mycroft said. "The one who moved in about two flats down the street. Tall man, bit of weight on him."

Stranger: "Any pictures? Vivid details?"

You: "Anthea was able to send me a slightly blurry one from a CCTV camera," Mycroft explained before pulling his phone out. He pulled up the image of the man and turned his phone to Sherlock

Stranger: Sherlock took the phone and scanned the man. Black hair, he couldn't tell the eyes, muscular. Sherlock handed him back the phone. "When we land, forward that to me?"

You: "Yes, I will," Mycroft nodded and put his phone back in his pocket. He waited impatiently for the plane to land and taxi up to the terminal.

Stranger: They exited to the gate and made their way to baggage claim without a word. They snagged their bags and hailed a taxi.

You: Mycroft directed the driver to a nice hotel on the edge of the city. He forwarded the image to Sherlock and sat back in the cab, wishing he could stretch his legs out.

Stranger: Sherlock watched the city roll by the window. He felt years away from John. He felt the pain from watching him and Lestrade kiss, and he felt the love he had for him create the jealousy inside him. He loved John. He needed him. John was his everything and he had to have him back.

You: Mycroft stepped out of the cab at the hotel, nudging an oblivious Sherlock on the way out. They walked up to the desk, Mycroft's name granting him instant access to a room. They headed upstairs and Mycroft stretched out across a bed, working out the knots in his muscles

Stranger: "You good?" Sherlock asked, scanning the room.

You: "Will be soon," Mycroft sighed. "I don't enjoy sitting in cramped planes and cabs for hours, Sherlock. You'll owe me after this."

Stranger: "I'll get you Lestrade back." Sherlock promised, placing his bags onto the second bed. "I promise..."

You: Mycroft sat up suddenly, hope and pain painting his face. "How?" he breathed.

Stranger: "I'll explain to him how things... Actually ended that night..." Sherlock said slowly, avoiding Mycroft's eyes.

You: "What do you mean?" Mycroft asked, confused. "How they actually ended? I was there, I know how it ended."

Stranger: "Mycroft... I told her... She needed to ser boundaries... I told her that you didn't like all the open dating and wanted a more closed relationship. That's why she set them at random one night. Why she got so mad at you for sleeping with those other two people." Sherlock admitted, licking his lips slowly when he was done, looking down at his bag. "I knew you would lash out like you did."

You: "Why?" Mycroft asked. "What was the point of it all? We were doing fine as it was."

Stranger: "I was jealous you actually had someone and kinda of mad that they used you like that, and how you didn't seem to give a damn they did. I wanted her to leave... Thats why I pushed her in front of that car...."

You: "You... -pushed- her?" Mycroft yelled, shooting to his feet. "You killed an innocent woman?"

Stranger: Sherlock looked away. "I was young and stupid and mad... Mad she was using you, Mycroft..."

You: Mycroft purposely settled himself down, taking a deep breath. "Sherlock, you were 16. Why did you care what she was doing?"

Stranger: "Because you are my brother..." Sherlock starting goin through his bag, not really looking for anything. "I was 16 and thought I needed to protect you, like you did me..."

You: Mycroft sighed and walked over to stand in front of Sherlock. "While the sentiment is very surprising, I am touched that you cared for me then. Though, I have to admit, your methods were not the best. What changed between then and now, Sherlock?"

Stranger: "Nothing..." Sherlock said, finially meeting his eyes. "But your high in the government now. You have people to protect you. I don't need to. The only reason I did that to you, with Lestrade, was because I was jealous you could have the person you loved and I couldn't have the one I did.... The one I do love..."

You: "I'm sorry, Sherlock," Mycroft said quietly. He slowly wrapped one hand around Sherlock's shoulders and drew him into a hug.

Stranger: Sherlock hugged him back slowly. "I hate myself..."

You: "You need to stop doing things like this," Mycroft told him. "Thank you for trying to protect me back then. But jealousy is not an emotion you should act on like that."

Stranger: "I know..." Sherlock answered at length. "I will get you Lestrade back... I promise..."

You: Mycroft hugged him tightly for a moment more before releasing Sherlock and stepping back. "Now, feel like hunting a sniper?"

Stranger: Sherlock nodded. "But first, are we okay, Mycroft? I like our brotherly dislike when it's not actually hate and bitterness." Sherlock chuckled.

You: "I think we'll be ok," Mycroft chuckled. "And we can go back to our normal brotherly dislike."

Stranger: "Good. So where do we start?"

You: "His address is a tenement building a few miles from here," Mycroft explained. "I thought we could go there and take a look around."

Stranger: "Sounds like a plan." Sherlock smirked. "You ready for some legwork?"

You: Mycroft sighed and then grinned. "Sure. Sooner we go, sooner I can go back home." He grabbed his umbrella and walked out the door, hailing a taxi outside.

Stranger: Sherlock shifted through some of the garbage outside in the dumpster. He didn't know what he was looking for, but he scanned each piece of paper he found.

You: "Find anything useful yet?" Mycroft asked, annoyed at having to stand in the diry alley

Stranger: "Nah." Sherlock said, pulling his hands out and brushing them on his long black coat. He figured it safe to wear here, seeing no one here knew him. "Just old junk and shopping lists."

You: "Why don't we head upstairs and see if the sniper is home?" Mycroft asked, pointing with his umbrella at the head of the alley

Stranger: "Yes, and why don't we just knock on his door and ask introduce ourselfs while were at it?" Sherlock rolled his eyes.

You: "Why not?" Mycroft smirked. "If it's him, he'll panic. Then we'll know for sure."

Stranger: "Because, brother, then even if he doesn't manage to kill Mrs. Hudson before we get him, if he sends word to his friend back in London, John could end up -dead-." The smirk didn't leave Mycroft's lips so he added. "And Lestrade may end up next to him."

You: "Not if we take care of him here," Mycroft argued, resolutely ignoring the familiar flare of pain. "Like that first sniper..."

Stranger: "And if he still manages to send word and kill them both?"

You: Mycroft sighed again, breath huffing out in an annoyed spurt. "I just want this over with," he muttered. "Both of us could probably stop him from sending any sort of communication."

Stranger: "Mycroft, the first sniper I killed on a panic. A whim. I was lucky I wasn't caught. Lestrade could have been -dead-. I was very lucky not to have been caught and have Lestrade killed. Okay? I'm not risking it again." Sherlock said, striding past Mycroft with a sweep of his coat and heading over to a few boxes on the ground.

You: "Then what do you want to do?" Mycroft asked, following after Sherlock, his umbrella clicking on the ground.

Stranger: "We have to get him away from people and where no one will find his body till we clear the scene. I'm not risking John's life or Lestrade's life again just to get this over with quickly. I'll do anything to keep them safe. For both of us."

You: "So what if we try to proposition him for a job?" Mycroft suggested. "Have him meet us somewhere because we don't want to talk at his flat."

Stranger: "That may work. But it will take time..."

You: "We have time, don't we?" Mycroft replied, the words dragged from his lips. "John and Greg are safe at the moment as is your landlady."

Stranger: "Yes. But you said it as though it would take a day or two is all." Sherlock stood from the boxes. "It's going to take longer then that."

You: "Why?" Mycroft asked. "Couldn't we do all this in a day or two? All we need to do is get him away from the flat and somewhere quiet."

Stranger: "True, but for the job, we have to make it something he'd be interested in. If he has a job, we have to know. If he does, we have to make it sound as though he would be gaining something. If he's not interested he wouldn't show, then we can't really go to him again and try again. It's a one shot one deal thing here. Mycroft. We have to be ready."

You: "All right, I'll follow your lead in this," Mycroft grumbled. He stared at his younger brother as the detective paced a small circle on the sidewalk. "What are you thinking?"

Stranger: "How can we get the information we need? Has your assisstant found everything she can on this guy?"

You: "I believe so but she may be able to find more if we can prove that this is the man we're looking for," Mycroft said.

Stranger: "Were going to need to know if he has a job." Sherlock paused in front of Mycroft, stapling his hands to his chin.

You: Mycroft sends a quick text to Anthea, assuming that this is the man they're looking for. She texts back a confirmation and asks for a day to get more information. "She says she should have more in about a day," Mycroft explained, putting his phone away

Stranger: "Then we might as well head back to the hotel. There's nothing more we can do yet."

You: Mycroft nods and looks for another taxi. It takes him several minutes as this isn't a very good part of town. He stays silent on the ride back, allowing Sherlock to think in the taxi

Stranger: They got back to their room and Sherlock stretched onto his bed, closing his eyes.

You: "I'm going to sleep for a while," Mycroft announced for no particular reason. "Try not to do something loud in case you get bored."

Stranger: "I didn't bring a gun so I think you may be safe." Sherlock smiled. "Goodnight then, and thanks, Mycroft."

You: "You're welcome, brother dear," Mycroft answered, a small grin crossing his face. "Good night." He laid down on the bed after changing into pajamas and fell into a deep sleep. And if his dreams centered around a specific DI, well, that was no one's business but his own.

\-------------------end chapter 7-------------------------


	8. Chapter 8

Stranger: "No, you set this in motion the moment you decided to come between Mycroft and me. Deal with it." Lestrade snapped into the phone, shutting it angrily. He had abandoned the room so John wouldn't overhear Sherlock's voice from his phone and stormed to the kitchen. He threw the phone onto the table, leaning over his arms and breathing heavily, tears burned his cheeks in frustration.

You: John heard the muffled noises from downstairs and grew worried when Lestrade didn't come back into the room. He got out of bed and headed to the kitchen. He was shocked to see Lestrade crying and walked over to him to wrap his arms around him. "Greg, what's wrong?" John asked, concerned.

Stranger: "That good for nothing bloody bastard!" Lestrade sobbed, basically yelling. He didn't want to yell at John, but the emotions were taking over.

You: John held onto him, pulling him close. "Tell me," he quietly ordered, rubbing a hand over Lestrade's back.

Stranger: "I can't..." Lestrade muttered, looking down at his hands on the table.

You: "All right," John answered agreeably. "But you know I'm here if you need to? Even if you just need to scream and rant." He brushed a kiss against Lestrade's temple.

Stranger: Lestrade could only nod. He chewed on his lip, still leaning on the table, enjoying feeling John's skin on his side and his arms around his waist. Slowly, he raised his eyes to meet John's.

You: "It was him, wasn't it?" John asked, looking into Lestrade's eyes. "Mycroft. Can you tell me what he wanted?"

Stranger: Lestrade flinched at the name, the anger doubling. "He called to tell me he was going to Canada. Although I don't know why he thought I would -care-. I told him never to talk to me again..." Lestrade growled.

You: "Canada?" John repeated, confused. "Why Canada? And I've never known him to do something without a reason."

Stranger: "I don't know. Government stuff I guess. I don't -care-! He could die there for all I care...." Lestrade trailed off, new tears forming.

You: John kissed his eyelids closed, his heart hurting at the pain in Lestrade's voice. "It's ok, Greg," John whispered. "You're all right. Everything's ok."

Stranger: Lestrade shook his head slowly. "No, it's not. It's -hurts-, John. Everything -hurts-."

You: "I know," John said, sighing. "And it probably will always hurt, at least a little. But let's go back to bed. Soothe the hurt away from each other."

Stranger: Lestrade felt John release him and take his hand in his. Lestrade let him drag him away from the table.

You: John went back upstairs, never relinquishing his hold on Lestrade's hand. When they reached John's room, John closed the door and slowly backed Lestrade up against it. He leaned up and kissed him, pressing his body against the DI's.

Stranger: Lestrade kissed John back, his mind still racing from Sherlock's words. He quickly moved his hand and cupped John, palming his length as his other hand wrapped around the shorter man's hips, pulling him closer.

You: John hummed quietly, smiling against Lestrade's lips. He moved his hips gently creating friction between them. His hands rested on Lestrade's chest, rubbing circles into the muscles.

Stranger: He couldn't take this anymore. Everything was slowly driving him insane, right off the edge. Without realizing it, he somehow managed to pin the ex-army doctor to the ground and had his mouth around John's erection.

You: "Ohhhhh, yes," John hissed, his back arching up off the floor. He was surprised at what Lestrade was doing but the feeling quickly overrode any objections he had. All he could think was yes, he wanted this.

Stranger: Lestrade pushed two fingers up John's entrance, moving them, pumping them needingly. His tongue pressed against John's hole, his mouth sucking wantingly.

You: Gasps and groans escaped John's mouth. He was unable to say anything coherent, all his thoughts burned. He spread his legs further apart, inviting Lestrade in closer.

Stranger: Lestrade sucked on John harder, slipping a third finger in and pushing as far up as he could. His other hand dug his nails into John's hips.

You: John screamed, his hands tangling in Lestrade's hair and pulling hard. His skin felt hot, tingly, and all he wanted was more. More heat, more thoughtlessness, more Lestrade. He moaned Lestrade's name in a needy whine.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled his fingers out and released John's erection. Needingly, he dipped his tongue into John's entrance. He ran his tongue along the walls and moaned loudly.

You: "Oh... my god," John yelped, his whole body shaking in his startlement. "Greg... what.... wait...."

Stranger: Lestrade didn't stop. He needed this right now and his frustration blocked out John's yelps. He started sucking on John's entrance, running his tongue deeper still.

You: As Lestrade nuzzled deeper into him, sucking hard, John settled back and let go. He had thought about allowing a few girlfriends do this before but always pulled back. The experience scared him but now, it was... good. He threw his head back and panted, learning all the new sensations.

Stranger: Lestrade took John's erection in his now free hand and started pumping it. He sucked harder at the entrance and moaned deeply, feeling John just relax.

You: "Oh, please," John moaned, pumping his hips up into Lestrade's hand. "Greg, please." John didn't even know what he was begging for, just needed to say something to let Lestrade know he was enjoying this.

Stranger: "I'm not stopping." Lestrade tried to growl bringing his tongue out for only a brief second. He realized how frustrated he must have sounded.

You: "No, don't," John agreed, pressing up against him. "Don't want you to."

Stranger: Lestrade pulled out his tongue and quickly crawling up to John, taking his mouth in his. He quickly entered John, pumping furiously into him.

You: John wrapped his arms around Lestrade's shoulders and his legs around his waist. He sucked at Lestrade's neck, raising red bruises. "Yes, more," he kept murmuring, grinding his hips into Lestrade's.

Stranger: Lestrade bit down just below John's ear, sucking at the soft skin and licking it and nipping at it. He kept at that one spot as he pulled John closer and pushed in farther.

You: John yelped Lestrade's name as he pushed deeper, striking a sensitive point deep inside him. He threw his head back and closed his eyes, placing all his trust in the man above him.

Stranger: Lestrade took the chance and went lower on John's neck, biting at every inch of skin. He thrusted himself in as far as he could then shoved harder. He couldn't get close enough to John. He couldn't get in him enough.

You: "Greg...." John whispered, his voice breathy and needy. He pulled Lestrade as close as he could, holding him tightly as they rocked together.

Stranger: "What, John..?" Lestrade growled, pumping harder with each word, nipping at John's neck and licking each forming red mark.

You: "Need you," John replied. "Close, want you with me."

Stranger: "I will." Lestrade growled in return. "Beg for me, John." Lestrade demanded.

You: John opened his eyes and looked deep into Lestrade's. He smiled and said, "Please, Greg, want you deep inside me. Want you to come with me, feel you explode inside me. Please."

Stranger: Lestrade shouted John's name as he exploded into John. He rode it out, pumping gently and running his hands down John's perfect body.

You: John ran his hands over Lestrade's back as his own orgasm overtook him. He could feel the spasms deep inside him and that made him gasp harder. He leaned up and bit at the soft skin under Lestrade's jaw.

Stranger: Lestrade melted into John, finishing his orgasm with a moan. He waited for John to finish, feeling his teeth nip at him.

You: "You feel better?" John whispered, bringing one hand forward to stroke Lestrade's cheek.

Stranger: Lestrade nodded, pulling out of John. Slowly he went down to John's erection, covered in the sticky liquid. He gently brushed his tongue over him, cleaning him.

You: "Christ, Greg, you are wonderful," John whispered, his back arching again. He ached to have Lestrade suck and lick more of him.

Stranger: Lestrade grazed his tongue gently over John, slowly cleaning the sticky, salty skin. He kissed John's head as he cleaned it, then continued down.

You: His breath started heaving again, his hands tangling in Lestrade's hair. This was far more private than what they had shared earlier, more intimate.

Stranger: Lestrade stuck John's whole erection in his mouth, slowly sucking him clean. "You like?" He muttered.

You: "Yes," John breathed, his eyes closed tightly. "I can't believe how you make me feel."

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled and licked John's entrance clean. He kissed the entrance lovingly and chuckled again, feeling John shiver.

You: "You know, my whole plan was to comfort you," John said. "Bring you up here, cuddle and kiss for a while."

Stranger: "This comforted me." Lestrade smiled. "I was able to get my fury out and love you at the same time."

You: "Well, good," John chuckled. "I'm glad you're feeling better. Mind letting me off the floor before I can't move?"

Stranger: "Do I have to?" Lestrade pretended to pout, crawling back up and laying on John, kissing him gently.

You: "You could always crawl on me in the bed," John said, kissing him back. "But the floor is starting to make my leg stiffen."

Stranger: Lestrade kissed him harder, keeping him to the ground. "But I like you down here." Lestrade chuckled.

You: "Let's explore that some other time," John suggested, one eyebrow arching slyly. "Besides, I want to shag you into the floor at some point."

Stranger: "Can't we just stay here for a few minutes longer?" Lestrade begged, running his hands over John lovingly.

You: "All right,"John conceded, shifting his head to kiss the side of Lestrade's neck. He could feel the man's pulse underneath his lips, still quick but slowing.

Stranger: Lestrade kissed John's forehead and pressed his whole body against him. "How's your leg?" He laughed.

You: "What leg?" John replied, laughing in turn. His arms were tight around Lestrade's sides, the fingers brushing at the skin between his shoulder blades.

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled in return, kissing John's lips deeply.

You: John felt time slip away as Lestrade kissed him, their lips moving together. He felt warmth at every point along his skin connected to Lestrade's. The feeling reached deep inside him and was slowly burning away the hurt and grief.

Stranger: "I love you..." Lestrade moaned, breaking the kiss for about a second, then attacking them again.

You: "Greg, you amazing man," John whispered against Lestrade's lips.

Stranger: "I love you, John..." Lestrade moaned against his lips, licking them lightly. "I love you... I love you..."

You: John groaned, his heart finally breaking open. "I... love you, Greg," John whispered, tears pricking his eyes.

Stranger: "Hey, don't cry..." Lestrade whispered, pulling back and looking at John deeply, worry in his voice. "I'm sorry... You don't have to say it..."

You: "No, don't... don't be sorry," John replied. "I wouldn't say it if I didn't mean it. But... the tears.... I can't stop... it's all too much...."

Stranger: "Oh... John..." Lestrade slowly got up. "I don't want to make you cry..."

You: "Don't... don't leave me," John suddenly yells, panic in his eyes. "You can't... please, don't leave me."

Stranger: "I'm not leaving you, John..." Lestrade whispered, pushing John's hair out of his eyes. "Come on, I want to get you in bed... I don't want you crying..."

You: John allowed Lestrade to pull him to his feet and lead him to the bed. When he got there, John crawled onto the bed and curled up on his side, his arms wrapped tight around his stomach.

Stranger: Lestrade watched him for a second before crawling in next to him. "This is what I was trying to avoid, John... You hurt... You crying and in pain..." Lestrade said, eyes burning. "Tell me... Why are you crying... What can I do?"

You: "Just stay," John whispered. "I can't lose.... someone else I love. And I do."

Stranger: "John, I'm not planning on leaving you. What gave you that idea?" Lestrade asked, kissing John's hair, which was damp with sweat.

You: "I... don't know," John said honestly. He tilted his head back, leaning into Lestrade's caress. "The pain on your face as you stood, I guess I panicked. Thought you didn't want to be here anymore."

Stranger: "If anything, I want to be here more... I wouldn't just leave you crying... Want to tell me why you started crying, babe?" Lestrade whispered, running his hand through John's hair.

You: "I just felt overwhelmed," John admitted, slowly uncurling his arms from around himself. "Lots of emotional shocks in a fairly short time. First.... -him- and then admitting I felt something for you."

Stranger: "John, if it makes you this upset, don't tell me. Your kisses and touch tell me all I need to know. I love you, and I know you love me, but if you get this upset, you don't have to tell me, ok?" Lestrade smiled softly at him, kissing him slowly all over the forehead and cheeks.

You: "Thanks," John said quietly, stretching out across the bed. He raised trembling hands to Lestrade's side, slowly pressing into the skin.

Stranger: "I'm sorry... I know I kind of... took advantage of you there..." Lestrade kissed John carefully on the temple.

You: "It's all right," John said. "After my initial reaction, I'm glad you didn't listen to me and stop. It felt good."

Stranger: "I'm glad." Lestrade chuckled, running his hand down John's cheek.

You: John sighed shakily and leaned into the touch. He rested his head against Lestrade's shoulder, feeling vulnerable and terrified.

Stranger: "How are you feeling?" Lestrade whispered.

You: "I don't know," John said. "Scared, open, happy, and satisfied, I guess."

Stranger: "You're scared?" Lestrade asked, running his hands down John's sides.

You: "Yes," John whispered. He was still trying to analyze his emotions, understand what he was so afraid of.

Stranger: "Of what?" Lestrade whispered. "Of.. me?"

You: "Partly. Partly of me," John admitted. "If I can feel this for you so soon, after what I feel for.... What does that make me? Can I trust my emotions?"

Stranger: "John, we're both hurt. Our emotions are mixed up. All I know is that I love you, and you make me feel safe and warm and not... hurt. I'm guessing it's the same for you. I lost Mycroft just a few weeks ago and you lost.. Sherlock... a few months ago. You've had longer to cope. Maybe you just think you're not over him because you didn't have someone else to give those feelings to?" Lestrade whispered, his hands massaging John's sides lightly.

You: "Maybe," John nodded. "But even with you here, I still love him. I don't quite know how to reconcile the two."

Stranger: "I understand. A part of you will always love him. Just as a part of me will always love... Mycroft..." Lestrade whispered.

You: "I'm sorry," John whispered, reaching one hand to brush over Lestrade's cheek. "I didn't mean to fall apart on you."

Stranger: "It's fine, John. I'm here for you. You should be able to tell me these things." Lestrade smiling at him.

You: "Thanks," John said, smiling up at him. He leaned forward and kissed Lestrade gently, just pressing his lips against the other's.

Stranger: Lestrade took John's hand in his and wrapped their fingers together.

You: John leaned back and rested his head against Lestrade's shoulder again, twining his fingers into the other man's. "Greg, I don't say this enough. You're wonderful," John whispered against his neck.

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled deeply. "So are you, John."

You: "I don't think so, but I'm not going to argue," John laughed. He pressed a kiss against Lestrade's pulse and closed his eyes, his breath slowing and evening.

Stranger: "Can we just lay here for a little while before we get up?" Lestrade whispered, pulling John closer, not releasing his hand.

You: "Yeah," John replied. "I don't want to go anywhere right now. Glad you left your phone downstairs."

Stranger: "I don't want him calling again..." Lestrade muttered.

You: "Ignore Mycroft's number," John said, kissing his neck again. "Just don't answer."

Stranger: "I can't... if he's calling because he needs help and something happens to him... I'll never forgive myself..." Lestrade shook his head.

You: "I understand," John murmured. "I can... try to talk to him... if you want." He tried to tamp down the pain of even that small connection to Sherlock.

Stranger: "No... I can't make you do that..." Lestrade kissed John's neck softly.

You: "Option's open," John said lightly, tilting his head back. "If you ever need it, Greg."

Stranger: "Thank you, love." Lestrade kissed him again. "And I love when you say my name."

You: "Then I'll have to say it more often, Greg," John whispered, his lips touching Lestrade's. "I love when you say mine, too. Almost like you're caressing a hand down my spine."

Stranger: "Then should I say it more often, John?" Lestrade smiled.

You: "Yes, please," John said, laughing quietly. "I don't want you to stop."

Stranger: "Okay, John," Lestrade smiled wider, kissing him lightly.

You: John kissed him back gently, not needing to take their kiss deeper. He licked at Lestrade's lips, teasing him.

Stranger: Lestrade groaned at the tease, sliding his hand to John's butt.

You: John started in surprise, his lips curving into a wider smile. "Can't get enough of me, huh?" he joked.

Stranger: "Never." Lestrade said simply, giving John's butt a squeeze. He smiled as John gasped and kissed him again.

You: John realized that he hadn't really touched Lestrade in their time together yet. Curiousity gnawed at him until he slid a hand down between their bodies and rested it on the inside of Lestrade's thigh.

Stranger: "J-John?" Lestrade asked, feeling John's hand rest lightly on the inside of his thigh.

You: "Greg?" John replied, his fingers curling gently against the soft skin.

Stranger: "What are you going to... to do?" He stuttered, nerves going through him excitedly.

You: "I want to touch you," John whispered. "I haven't and I want to give you what you gave me."

Stranger: "Ohhh..." Lestrade moaned, heat flowing through his body. "John, please."

You: John trailed his fingers along Lestrade's thigh, slowly working up. He took a deep breath and wrapped his fingers around Lestrade, feeling the man hardening underneath him.

Stranger: "God.. John... Your hand feels so... so good... on me..." Lestrade moaned, laughing lightly.

You: "Good, because I really have no idea what I'm doing," John huffed out, a small amount of annoyance in his voice. He stroked down, pressing a little harder with his fingers.

Stranger: "Oh!" Lestrade gasped as John's hand tightened.

You: John tilted his head, looking into Lestrade's eyes. Well, it seemed he wasn't as bad at this as he was afraid of. Growing a little more confident, John stroked harder, a little faster.

Stranger: "Oh! John! Gentle!" Lestrade moaned, throwing his head back, John squeezing a little too tightly.

You: "Sorry, sorry," John muttered, easing back. He changed his grip to just let his fingertips drift gently over the warm skin.

Stranger: "It's fine, love." Lestrade whispered, stroking John's cheek.

You: "You can tell me what you want," John said, his cheeks coloring slightly. "I don't want to hurt you on accident again."

Stranger: "John, just do what you think is right." Lestrade laughed. "I'll tell you if you're hurting me."

You: Rolling his eyes, John shifted back a little bit so he could see more clearly. He wrapped his fingers around the head of Lestrade's erection again, squeezing more gently than last time.

Stranger: "Better..." Lestrade purred. "Much better."

You: John smiled and looked up into Lestrade's eyes. He kept the contact and slid his fingers down again, not changing the pressure.

Stranger: "John... God, please... More... More..." Lestrade moaned, deepening his gaze with John.

You: Swallowing hard, John tightened his fingers a little bit. He traced his nails over the veins in the underside of the skin, twisting his hand slowly.

Stranger: Lestrade hissed and leaned back onto his back. "God John..."

You: "This good?" John asked quietly, leaning down to kiss and suck his way down Lestrade's collarbone.

Stranger: "V-very..." Lestrade moaned, closing his eyes.

You: Still kissing his skin, John moved faster. He started a long, sweeping stroke and twisted his hand when he reached the head of Lestrade's erection. Moving back up, he caught Lestrade's lips with his.

Stranger: Lestrade feverishly took John's mouth, kissing him deeply.

You: John groaned into the kiss, the sudden heat flaring and filling his chest. He continued to stroke Lestrade, his hips meeting the other man's as Lestrade ground into him.

Stranger: "You're amazing..." Lestrade moaned deeply.

You: "Not really," John whispered quietly. "You're the amazing one, Greg," he said a little louder, draping one arm over Lestrade's shoulder and pulling him closer.

Stranger: "You are, too, John." Lestrade threw his head back.

You: John took the opportunity to kiss and nip at the soft skin under Lestrade's jaw. He could feel himself speaking and when he paused to analyze it, he was chanting Lestrade's name quietly into his skin.

Stranger: "I love that, John..." Lestrade said, hearing his name being chanted softly.

You: John nodded against his throat, never stopping his breathless words. He stroked faster, more confidently. Wanting to be closer to his lover, John slowly crawled on top of him, pressing him into the bed.

Stranger: Lestrade gasped at John, hovering over him. "J-John..." He whispered. "Wh-what made you want to... to do this?" He gasped, smiling slightly.

You: "I wanted to be close to you," John whispered. "You are wonderful and I wanted to make you feel good. Is it working?"

Stranger: "You have no idea..." Lestrade chuckled deeply in his throat, cupping John's face in his hands.

You: John smiled and kissed him, licking into his mouth desperately. His hips were grinding into Lestrade's and he was groaning quietly. This was turning him on more than he expected.

Stranger: Lestrade felt John's erection growing against him. He hissed and pulled back from John to look him in the eyes. "John... I feel you-" He cut off, throwing his head back in pleasure.

You: "What?" John asked. "What do you mean?" He leaned down to kiss Lestrade's throat again, unable to say no to the bared expanse of skin.

Stranger: "You're... You're hard.." Was all he could manage out.

You: "Yes," John replied, a bit embarrassed. "That a problem?"

Stranger: "God, no." Lestrade laughed. "I... I think it's... God... Use it..." He whispered.

You: "Um," John replied inelegantly. Thoughts warred in his mind and he froze for a moment. "O... Ok. Stupid question, but how exactly do I go about that?"

Stranger: "God John... You're so adorable." Lestrade laughed, stroking his cheek. "You remember how... How I do it?"

You: "Kind of," John said, a small laugh burbling in his throat. "I'm usually fairly distracted by that point."

Stranger: "Just... Just line up and... enter." Lestrade shrugged, his eyes full of lust. "Just try... Please... I mean... I'm sure you've done it with... girlfriends, haven't you?"

You: "Yeah, but won't that hurt you?" John asked, concern in his voice.

Stranger: "Only for a moment... It's like you, John. You know how you feel when I enter you..." Lestrade ran his hands down John's neck.

You: "All right, I can at least try, Greg," John said, kissing him again. He shifted so that he lay between Lestrade's legs and moved himself to the right position. He paused a moment, looking deep into Lestrade's eyes, then bucked his hips forward.

Stranger: "God... JOHN!" Lestrade cried as John entered, filling him and sending a mix of pleasure and pain course through his entire being.

You: John grunted in reply, stroking slowly in until he was buried completely. He watched Lestrade's face, fascinated by the expressions.

Stranger: "My god... John... I... wow..."

You: John leaned down to nip at his lover's collarbone, his hips moving in a slow, relaxed rhythm. He could feel Lestrade start to move with him and groaned at the sensations.

Stranger: "You are so perfect, John..." Lestrade whispered. "I love you so much... You're perfect..."

You: "Greg," John whispered reverently. "Greg, just.... you are wonderful." He ran his hands down Lestrade's chest, tracing the muscles flexing under his skin.

Stranger: "You're perfect..." Lestrade whispered again, looking John deeply in the eyes.

You: John dropped his head onto Lestrade's shoulder, kissing skin under his mouth. He could feel his hips speeding up, instinctively finding the rhythm with Lestrade.

Stranger: Lestrade pumped up to John, needing the friction. He moaned John's name deeply and kissed down John's hair.

You: "You'll have to guide me a bit with this," John admitted quietly. "Still no clue here."

Stranger: "You're doing perfect, love." Lestrade chuckled. "Just ask questions if needed. No promise my answers will be clear." He laughed.

You: "All right," John replied agreeably. He guessed it didn't really matter anyway. He wasn't going to last much longer, thrusting into that tight heat.

Stranger: Lestrade hugged John closer. "This is amazing... You fill me so... god..." Lestrade chuckled happily, kissing John on his cheek.

You: John smiled at him and moved faster, trying to get deeper inside. He knew there was a point that would make Lestrade scream exactly as he had done to John earlier. He grinned as he thrust in particularly deep.

Stranger: Lestrade screamed John's name as he hit the nerves deep inside him. As John backed back out to get ready for another pump, Lestrade closed his eyes and whimpered.

You: John froze for a moment at the sound, looking down at Lestrade. "You ok?" he asked.

Stranger: Lestrade laid there, panting. He couldn't speak, too much pleasure coursed through him.

You: "I can stop if I'm hurting you," John continued, looking at Lestrade's closed eyes.

Stranger: Lestrade shook his head. "D-don't you d-dare..." Lestrade barely whispered.

You: John sighed a relieved breath and starting moving again, his hips thrusting hard against Lestrade's. His breath came in panting gasps and he was whispering Lestrade's name again.

Stranger: Lestrade whimpered as John pumped into him. It was too good. "So... close..."

You: "Don't hold back, Greg," John muttered. He reached down and gripped Lestrade, matching his hand to the pace of their hips.

Stranger: "My..." He gasped at John's sudden bravery.

You: John waited until Lestrade opened his eyes then looked deeply into them. "Were you going to say his name?" John asked quietly. "Because I'm not him. I'm me. I don't want to hear his name between us."

Stranger: "No... No John... I... I wasn't..." Lestrade panicked.

You: "What were you going to say?" John pressed him. "Please, don't lie to me."

Stranger: "I'm... I'm not lying... John... I was going to say... My God... I swear... Please..." Lestrade begged, his heart beating too quickly for comfort.

You: "I believe you," John replied. "It's ok, you can relax. I just wanted to know. Wanted to make sure it's me you want."

Stranger: "John, you're all I want..." Lestrade whispered slowly. "I don't even want to say... -his- name..."

You: John smiled at him, the little knot of pain easing. "Greg, I really do think I love you," John whispered. He leaned down to kiss him, dipping his tongue into Lestrade's mouth.

Stranger: Lestrade's heart stopped happily at the words. He finished the kiss slowly and pulled back to look at John. "You.. You mean it?" Lestrade panted, smiling a little.

You: "Yeah," John replied. He lifted a hand to stroke over Lestrade's cheek, his thumb passing over his cheekbone.

Stranger: "John... Please, finish me..." Lestrade moaned, pumping a little. "I love you, babe."

You: John groaned with desire at the words, moving quickly again. He squeezed with his hand and stroked up and down, his hips moving in time with his lover's.

Stranger: Lestrade pumped faster, trying to get John to get him to finish. His erection was burning for release.

You: John could feel his orgasm building and leaned down to suck at the crook of Lestrade's neck. He thrust in as deeply as he could, his hand pressing hard. He could feel small twitches and jerks and knew Lestrade was almost there.

Stranger: "John... Kiss me..." Lestrade moaned.

You: "I like hearing you beg for once, Greg," John laughed, ghosting his lips over Lestrade's.

Stranger: "Don't. Tease." Lestrade growled, taking the back of John's neck and pulling him down to his lips.

You: "And if I want you to beg some more?" John asked slyly, his lips pressing into Lestrade's.

Stranger: "I will... Anything..." Lestrade moaned.

You: "Then beg for what you want me to do," John whispered darkly before kissing him deeply.

Stranger: "John... John... Please..." Lestrade moaned as John kissed him. "Finish me... Please, finish me..."

You: John grinned against his lips and moved harder, one hand lifting Lestrade's hips to a better angle. He let the friction of their bodies rubbing together press on Lestrade's erection.

Stranger: "God... JOHN!" Lestrade shouted as his orgasm spilled into John's hand.

You: Feeling the warm liquid slicking their bellies, John threw his head back and shouted Lestrade's name to the ceiling as he exploded inside him.

Stranger: Lestrade gasped as he felt John's orgasm fill inside him. He pulled John down to kiss him.

You: "Greg," John whispered. "God, I don't deserve you." He kissed Lestrade lingeringly, their breaths combining.

Stranger: "Stop that." Lestrade said, pulling John back. "Stop that..."

You: John looked down at him, affection and sorrow mingling in his eyes. He shrugged and looked away. Pulling out carefully, John sat next to him on the bed, staring at the curtains over the window.

Stranger: "John, you do deserve me. You deserve -better- then me. It's me that doesn't deserve you, if anything. I love you. When you say that, it sounds like you're giving up..." Lestrade whispered, sitting behind John and wrapping his arms around his shoulders and leaning his head on John's shoulder.

You: "I know," John whispered. "Sometimes I feel like giving up. Letting it all go because nothing seems real anymore."

Stranger: "Even me?" Lestrade asked slowly, letting John go.

You: "You're real," John told him, awe and surprise in his voice. "I feel... alive again when I'm with you."

Stranger: "Then what isn't real to you? I don't want you to give up... I can't lose you..."

You: "Everything else," John replied, waving a hand feebly at the window. "When I came back from Afghanistan, I was surviving in that tiny flat. Nightmares haunted me and I had nothing to live for. Now, I almost feel that way again. Except for you."

Stranger: "John... please... don't give up... We can move in together... You can come work with me... We can get you happy again, make things feel real... Please..."

You: "I'm not going to do anything, Greg," John told him. "You don't have to worry. And I don't think I'm quite ready to move in with you, flattered as I am by the offer." He leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to Lestrade's lips.

Stranger: "Then don't talk like that, John..." Lestrade said sadly. He took John's hand in his.

You: "Sorry," John said quietly, twining his fingers in Lestrade's. He squeezed and then got up off the bed. "I need to clean up," he said. "Care to join me?"

Stranger: "I'd love to..." Lestrade forced a smile as he stood after John.

You: John caught his hand again on the way down the stairs and didn't let go even when they reached the bathroom. He grabbed a towel and dampened it, running it over Lestrade's skin.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled as John cleaned him, holding his hand. "John?" Lestrade asked slowly. "Can I help?"

You: John nodded wordlessly, not trusting his voice. He didn't know what emotion would show through: the sadness or the happiness.

Stranger: Lestrade bent down and took the towel from John, running the warmed towel over John's thigh. "Does that feel good?"

You: John nodded, a small smile crossing his lips. The hurt slowly faded away, replaced by affection for the man before him.

Stranger: "Are you okay? Why aren't you speaking?" Lestrade paused, looking up at him.

You: "Because," John replied. "I still feel the sorrow and I don't want to... change or ruin this moment with you."

Stranger: Lestrade stood and kissed John gently. "Don't feel like you have to hide something from me... I want to take that sorrow and make you smile."

You: "You do," John reassured him, his smile growing bigger. He leaned up to kiss Lestrade again, never getting tired of the motion. "You hungry? I could use a bite."

Stranger: "Sounds perfect." Lestrade purred. "I could go for a... -date-."

You: John actually giggled breathlessly, surprised at the sound. "A date," he repeated, rolling the word around his mouth. "Sure, sounds good."

Stranger: "I loved that sound." Lestrade said, tilting John's chin up with his finger to look into his eyes.

You: "It's not one I make often," John said, laughing. "I mean, a full-grown man giggling?"

Stranger: Lestrade smiled. "Special occasion then." He laughed.

You: John smiled at him again, another giggle working its way out of his throat. He leaned into Lestrade, suddenly overcome by a fit of laughter.

Stranger: Lestrade cradled him against his chest, laughing as well. He really loved this man...

You: John slowly caught his breath again and hugged Lestrade tightly before stepping away. "Clothes," John said decisively. "Need clothes for this date."

Stranger: "Well, guess I'm screwed." Lestrade laughed. "All I have are the ones from yesterday..."

You: "I can offer you a shirt," John offered. "Though I think you're too tall for my pants."

Stranger: "Just a shirt would be good, as long as you're not too offended if I use yesterday's."

You: "Nope," John said, laughing again. "Let's go get dressed. I'm starved." He led the way out of the bathroom, holding Lestrade's hand again. It really did feel wonderful.

Stranger: Lestrade followed John back to his room, squeezing his hand lovingly. He let go to let John search his dresser, sitting on the bed and getting the slight amusement of John's butt in the air as he looked.

You: John felt eyes on him and turned to see Lestrade staring at him. "What?" John asked, smiling at him.

Stranger: "Your butt was in the air while you were looking." Lestrade smiled bigger. "I was just admiring."

You: John laughed at him, a small blush creeping up his face. He turned back and grabbed the shirt he'd found and tossed it at Lestrade. He pulled out his own clothes and dressed quickly.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled the shirt on after watching John dress. He pulled on his own pants and the shirt John had tossed him. He turned back to see John slipping on his coat. His shirt under the jacket was tight on him and highlighted every curve so perfectly.

You: John watched as Lestrade dressed out of the corner of his eye, enjoying the flex of his muscles. It was sad to see his skin covered up by clothing.

Stranger: "You look good." Lestrade smiled at John, coming up behind him in the mirror and smoothing out his jacket at the shoulders. "1"-Very- good."

You: "You do too," John replied, tilting his head and eyeing Lestrade. "Good enough that I want to peel those clothes off you again."

Stranger: Lestrade could only laugh. "Oh god, I created a monster." He joked.

You: John grinned at him, tangling his hand in Lestrade's hair and pulling him down for a kiss. "Later, though," he promised. "Food now."

Stranger: Lestrade kissed John gently then took his hand. He lead him outside and stopped. "Where do you wanna go?"

You: "How about Italian?" John suggested, pulling Lestrade down for another kiss. He really did enjoy doing that.

Stranger: "Sounds good." Lestrade smiled, kissing John lightly. "Shall we call a taxi, then?"

You: "All right," John nodded. "You try. They always ignore me."

Stranger: "Awwww." Lestrade giggled, running a hand through John's hair.

You: John laughed warmly and batted playfully at Lestrade's hand. Neither noticed the taxi across the way nor the silvery blue eyes trained on them.

Stranger: Lestrade raised his hand as the taxi across the street pulled away. It ignored them .

You: "Guess they ignore you too," John giggled. He raised a hand as another taxi came down the street and was amazed when it stopped.

Stranger: "Awh, you lied to me." Lestrade laughed as they climbed in.

You: "Hey, that's a first," John smiled, leaning into Lestrade. "I usually go through three or four taxis."

Stranger: "Humm." Lestrade chuckled. He leaned closer to John, heading off to lunch.

\-------------------end chapter 8-------------------------


	9. Chapter 9

Stranger: Sherlock blinked awake as the sun flooded into the room and hit his eyes. He could hear Mycroft breathing loudly on the bed next to his and turned his head in his direction. He slowly sat up, swinging his legs over the edge, rubbing his eyes. "Mycroft? Mycroft! Time to get up..."

You: Mycroft's eyes snapped open and he blinked tiredly. He had been having a nightmare about the argument in Molly's apartment and tears burned in his eyes. He looked at Sherlock and sighed.

Stranger: Sherlock noticed the tears and gave Mycroft and questioning, concerned look.

You: "Forget it," Mycroft mumbled. "It's not important right now." He stood and stretched, ignoring his younger brother for the moment.

Stranger: "Come on, Mycroft. Out with it." Sherlock nudged, standing as well and shuffling through his bag of clothes and the foot of his bed.

You: "No," Mycroft replied shortly. He grabbed some of his clothes out of the dresser and walked to the bathroom. He shut the door resolutely on Sherlock's questioning look.

Stranger: Sherlock sighed at the door as it shut in his face. "It's about Lestrade, isn't it." He called through the door, over the soft sound of the weak fan that ran when the light was on.

You: Mycroft didn't reply, just rolled his eyes and continued changing. He turned the water on to drown out Sherlock's voice, brushing his teeth.

Stranger: "I said I was sorry." Sherlock growled, loud enough to get Mycroft to hear him. He went to the far corner of the room and quickly changed.

You: Hearing the annoyance in Sherlock's voice, Mycroft sighed again and finished his morning routine. He opened the door and stalked out, glaring at his brother. "I know," Mycroft replied. "Doesn't mean that I'm not still annoyed and hurt."

Stranger: "You were fine last night." Sherlock hissed to himself, brushing past his brother and jamming their shoulders against one another's. He went into the bathroom, not bothering to close the door, and started to uncap his toothpaste.

You: Mycroft stalked up to the door, glaring at Sherlock. "I forgave you last night," Mycroft hissed. "There's a difference between that and what I feel now. Now I am angry."

Stranger: "You told me last night we were ok." Sherlock replied, sticking the toothbrush into his mouth.

You: "And we are," Mycroft said. "Doesn't mean I'm still not angry. But not really at you anymore."

Stranger: "Fuen, fha fou?" Sherlock said through a mouth of foaming toothpaste, struggling with the words.

You: Mycroft chuckled lightly and shook his head. "Talk to me when you're not talking through toothpaste," he said and walked back into the main room.

Stranger: Sherlock spit and cleaned his brush, going after Mycroft. "Then at who?"

You: "Myself mostly," Mycroft said sadly. "And a bit at Greg, though I understand what he did. I probably would have done the same in his place."

Stranger: "You shouldn't be mad at yourself..." Sherlock protested.

You: "Why?" Mycroft asked, quirking an eyebrow at Sherlock. "I made the choice that started this whole sorry mess."

Stranger: "Which was what?" Sherlock answered back, tying a shoelace.

You: "Everything with Shelby," Mycroft whispered, wincing at the memories her name dredged up. He didn't go see her in the hospital, only had word of mouth that she was dead. Ever since that memory had been dredged up, he sometimes wondered if she truly was dead.

Stranger: "Mycroft, you were young and stupid." Sherlock laughed slightly. "You didn't know it would lead to something like this happening this far in the future. You didn't even know at the time that... Well... Nevermind, can't really say it killed her... Can I?" Sherlock laughed guiltily.

You: "Don't joke about it," Mycroft snapped. "I felt so guilty over that that I couldn't even go to her funeral. I never even saw her again after that night."

Stranger: "I know... It was my fault... I thought I was doing you a favor.." Sherlock turned his cell phone over and over in his hand.

You: Mycroft sighed, the anger leaving him in a rush. "I know," he said quietly. "Can we just... put it behind us? At least until you tell Greg about your part in it."

Stranger: "Sure..." Sherlock said, swallowing hard. "I just hope he understands..." Sherlock moved over to the door and put his coat on, folding the collar around his neck. "Shall we go..?"

You: "Yes," Mycroft said, standing and putting his own jacket on. "What is your plan for today?"

Stranger: "Did you get the information we need yet?" He questioned as they made the way to the front of the hotel.

You: Mycroft checked his phone and found a text from Anthea from the middle of the night. It simply told him to check his email and he found more information about the sniper. "Gary King was an American national who travelled the world working as a mercenary. He tended to take jobs that allowed him to work almost completely alone and blend in to the local area." Mycroft read.

Stranger: "Okay, then we know we need to plan a job that will allow him to work alone..." Sherlock thought out loud, stepping into the cab Mycroft had flagged down.

You: "That should be easy," Mycroft said, following Sherlock into the cab. "And as for blending in, how about we have it here."

Stranger: "Should work... but the question is, how do we make it believable? If he's smart, he'll ask to see the workspace..." Sherlock said, looking at Mycroft.

You: "What if we had one of us be the target?" Mycroft suggested. "That way, we don't pull in an innocent person."

Stranger: "What sort of target?" Sherlock asked, turning more towards Mycroft in his seat.

You: "Really, Sherlock, you know what I mean," Mycroft drawled, glancing at his brother out of the corner of his eye. "One of us being the target for the sniper."

Stranger: "Well, Mycroft, I was hoping I was catching the wrong idea because I'm not risking your life." Sherlock scolded. "If he finds out what you're up to, or actually comes after you, what do you think the first thing he'll do to you is?"

You: "I can watch over myself," Mycroft said. "And how would he find out what we're up to as long as each of us plays our parts?"

Stranger: "Don't you think he'll wonder how we knew he was a killer?" Sherlock hissed. "With no criminal record publicly available and the only information of his doing known by Moriarty?"

You: "We'll say IOU sent us," Mycroft said reasonably. "That we needed something... delicate taken care of and were referred to him."

Stranger: "He'll question us." Sherlock folded his arms, looking forward. "I'm not risking it. Too many lives on the line."

You: "Then what do you suggest, brother dear?" Mycroft snarked at him. "You have a better plan?"

Stranger: "Can you buy a hotel chain? Just for a day?" Sherlock smirked at Mycroft's shocked look.

You: "-Buy- a hotel chain?" Mycroft repeated in a strangled voice. "Why would I want to do that?"

Stranger: "Can you or can you not?" Sherlock smiled, tilting his head at his brother.

You: "Yes, most likely I can," Mycroft replied testily. "It would take a few days to call in the favors. And you would owe me more than one for it. Now what is your plan?"

Stranger: "Today, let's follow this guy around. See his daily routine and all. Once you become head of the hotel chain, I simply go to him, hinting at him that I need a favor, maybe let him catch me following him a little... If he picks up that favor, we send him after you..." Sherlock saw Mycroft's shocked look as he paused. "...And into our trap."

You: "And what trap would that be?" Mycroft asked archly. "A sniper doesn't need to get close to kill someone. That's the whole point."

Stranger: "It won't get that far." Sherlock waved it off. "Don't worry."

You: "All right. So we're just following him today?" Mycroft asked. "Should I be here? We don't want him catching sight of me with you."

Stranger: "He won't recognize you.." Sherlock said, a smile dancing on his lips.

You: A worried frown crossed Mycroft's face at the look on Sherlock's. "Why am I suddenly worried about your ideas?" he asked rhetorically.

Stranger: "Everyone always is." Sherlock smiled. "Uh, just stop here, driver." Sherlock called up, standing as the cab came to a stop. "Come on, Mycroft."

You: Mycroft got out of the cab with a resigned sigh, following Sherlock into a nondescript shop. He gaped as he looked around.

Stranger: "Today, we -both- will be looking completely different from high end hotel owners or criminals. Maybe even for a few days." Sherlock smirked as his brother's face. This was too much fun.

You: "Really, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked. "Disguises? What are we supposed to be? Hippies or something?"

Stranger: "Not hippies, no." Sherlock said, flipping through some clothes on a rack. "Try... underground outcasts."

You: "We're going to masquerade as part of your homeless network?" Mycroft said distastefully.

Stranger: "Or as the gangsters you see painting government walls, your choice really."

You: Mycroft shook his head and allowed Sherlock to lead him through the secondhand clothing store, piling clothes in his arms. He felt a push on his back from Sherlock as the younger Holmes pointed to the dressing rooms.

Stranger: "Go! And I want to see everything." Sherlock smirked to himself. "You know, to make sure you're well hidden."

You: Swearing under his breath, Mycroft decided to do as Sherlock said. The faster they did this, the faster he could go home. To normalcy and sanity. 'And loneliness' his brain added on.

Stranger: "Come on, Mycroft, you almost got the first thing on yet?!" Sherlock called, pacing. He honestly just wanted the laugh of seeing his brother so uncomfortable.

You: Finishing changing, Mycroft stepped out of the small room, glaring at his brother. He looked down at the ratty jeans and plaid shirt and grimaced. "Well?" he asked sarcastically.

Stranger: "It's you!" Sherlock grinned. "But seriously, look rougher. Try the jeans with a... messier shirt." Sherlock said, turning his brother and pushing him back into the small room.

You: Mycroft looked over the selection of shirts Sherlock had picked out and selected a dark gray t-shirt covered in white and red paint splatters. He did say messier, Mycroft grinned.

Stranger: "Come on, Mycroft!" Sherlock called, picking through a bin of hats and gloves and other things, throwing a few into a small pile on the ground next to him as he waited.

You: Mycroft walked out again, picking at the hem of the t-shirt. Though it was a bit funny to consider wearing it when he wasn't, actually wearing it was mortifying.

Stranger: Sherlock turned and arched a brow. "Untuck it half way, leave half in, and throw these on." Sherlock said, tossing Mycroft a black baseball cap and a pair of fingerless gloves, along with a dark pair of sunglasses.

You: Mycroft did as asked, putting on the other articles of clothing with distaste. When he was finished, he turned to the mirror and sighed. He looked nothing like himself, which was the point, he supposed.

Stranger: "Perfect!" Sherlock said, walking around him. "Just about three more sets to go." He smirked.

You: "What? Why?" Mycroft asked. "How many days are we going to be following him?"

Stranger: "How many days will it take to get that hotel chain?" Sherlock nudged him.

You: Mycroft headed back into the dressing room to pull his cellphone out of his pants. He sent another text to Anthea and got a confirming text of three days. "Anthea says three days," Mycroft replied, walking back out.

Stranger: "Oh, then I was mistaken." Sherlock said, walking back to the bin. "Two more to go."

You: Mycroft stalked back into the dressing room, pulling on another outfit. He didn't really want to hear Sherlock yelling at him to hurry again, so he walked out in a dark pair of jeans and white t-shirt.

Stranger: "Ehhh..." Sherlock paced around him. "Throw on this." Sherlock handed him a hoodie where there were holes in the sleeves for the thumbs.

You: Mycroft sneered at the material, crossing his arms over his chest. "I draw the line here," he said. "I'm not wearing that hideous thing."

Stranger: "Mycroft." Sherlock said warningly. "This -is- for Lestrade too..."

You: "That was a low blow, brother," Mycroft snapped but grabbed the hoodie. He pulled it over his head and thrust his hand through the sleeves. Then found his thumbs naturally went through the holes in the cuffs.

Stranger: "Low, but true." Sherlock sneered.

You: "So how does it look?" Mycroft asked sarcastically, staring at his thumbs. Now that he was wearing it, the hoodie was surprisingly comfortable

Stranger: "Good." Sherlock paced around him. "You should wear this kind of stuff more often. I'm sure Lestrade would fall all over it." He smiled and pushed Mycroft back into the changing room. "One more." he called, closing the door.

You: And that, as nothing else could, lightened Mycroft's mood about the whole situation. He actually smiled a bit at the pile of clothes, wondering what Greg would like him to wear. He settled on another pair of jeans, this one stonewashed and ripped at the knees, and a long-sleeved black shirt.

Stranger: "You ready, Mycroft? Come on, we have yet to do me!" Sherlock called, crossing his arms.

You: "Patience, dear brother," Mycroft called back, staring at the mirror. He schooled his face into a small frown, not wanting Sherlock to know he was actually enjoying visualizing Greg here. He stepped out again and crossed his arms, waiting for Sherlock's opinion.

Stranger: "Not bad... It can work, but would you be against a white hoodie with the sleeves ripped off? And maybe a cap?" Sherlock asked, pacing Mycroft once again.

You: "Fine," Mycroft sighed. "But what's the point of a hoodie with the sleeves ripped off? Isn't it supposed to keep you warm?"

Stranger: Sherlock shrugged. "In this case, it's to make you look tough I guess. The hood up, and the cap, all that stuff just... I don't know." He shrugged again and handed it to Mycroft.

You: Mycroft slipped the hoodie on and placed the cap on his head. "Are the caps necessary?" he asked annoyed. "I dislike wearing things on my head."

Stranger: "I think so. Mycroft wouldn't wear it, so you are." Sherlock shrugged

You: "And now you're talking about me in the third person," Mycroft said. "What names are we going to go by if anyone asks?"

Stranger: "I was pondering that..." Sherlock said, picking through the racks again in search of clothes for himself. "I don't even know what to call you..."

You: "Well, for this part how about we call me Joshua?" Mycroft suggested. "It's completely different than my name."

Stranger: Sherlock laughed. "This is true. Ok Joshua... Call me... Dean."

You: "All right," Mycroft said agreeably. "Your turn to try your clothes on... Dean."

Stranger: "I'm guessing your going to have some fun with this, am I right?" Sherlock glared at Mycroft.

You: "Hey, any port in a storm," Mycroft chuckled. "If I have to be uncomfortable over this, so do you."

Stranger: "Fine then. -Dress- me." He growled, motioning to the store.

You: Mycroft searched through the threadbare clothing, pulling out some ridiculous items. He also took some pity on his brother and pulled out a few serious things. He dumped the pile into Sherlock's clothes and pointed at the dressing room.

Stranger: Sherlock started picking throughout the clothes in the dressing room. He pulled on a pair of white ripped, baggy jeans, a black tshirt with the sleves ripped off and pulled on a pair of fingerless brown gloves. He looked himself over before steping out to Mycroft. "And..?" He asked.

You: "Interesting," Mycroft replied. "You look nothing like you. Which I'm assuming is what you're going for."

Stranger: "That's just what I'm going for. Does it look believable?" He asked, turning. "Like something I would wear if I were homeless?"

You: "It does to me," Mycroft nodded. "So you need a couple more outfits and we can leave, right?"

Stranger: "After shoes." Sherlock called as he retreated.

You: Mycroft sighed and brought his own clothes up to the register. He waited there, ignoring the girl standing there, until Sherlock came back with his new clothes

Stranger: "Shall we head over to the shoes and get some? We only need a pair each." Sherlock said, placing the clothes on the counter and looking at his brother.

You: Mycroft nodded and walked to the shoe racks, looking over the poor selection. He waited, staring at them, trying to figure out what would go with the persona Sherlock was creating.

Stranger: Sherlock picked up a pair of dark black sneakers, ripped at the toe. They were obviously worn down. He sat to lace them up and looked over at Mycroft as he did so.

You: Mycroft shook his head and looked back at the shoes. He pulled out a pair of brown and white sneakers and tried them on. "This good?" he asked.

Stranger: Sherlock glanced them over. "They should do the trick." He shrugged, standing and bounding on the ball of his foot with his on.

You: "Let's get out of here," Mycroft said, annoyed at this outing. He could see the point of it but he missed his snappy suits.

Stranger: "Ok. There's a small family restaurant down the block, we can go there, change in their bathroom and get a bite to eat before starting to the sniper's place," Sherlock said, slipping his shoes off and putting his on. "Sound good?"

You: "Can I wear my regular clothes?" Mycroft asked, staring at the ratty clothing on the counter. "I'd really like to put off wearing these as long as possible."

Stranger: "We have to wear them Mycroft," Sherlock said, shoving the bag of Mycroft's clothes at him. "No 'normal clothes' for the next three days."

You: Glaring at Sherlock but understanding the point, Mycroft walked back to the dressing room and changed into the clothes he thought Greg would enjoy. He slid into the hoodie with the holes for his thumbs and stroked the warm cloth. He was starting to like the hoodie at least.

Stranger: Sherlock changed in the changing room next to Mycroft's and stepped out. He was wearing the black shirt with the ripped sleeves and jeans. He left the gloves off for now and looked at himself in the mirror. 'What would John say if he could see me like this..?' He thought, glancing himself up and down.

You: Mycroft put the baseball cap on his head, glaring at himself in the mirror. He hated the damn thing. Stalking out, he waited for Sherlock, tapping a foot impatiently.

Stranger: Sherlock ran a hand through his hair. He really changed, he looked nothing like himself at all. Would John even recognize him if he walked back into the flat right now?

You: "Dean, hurry up," Mycroft called, wanting to get out of here. "I think dinner is calling my name."

Stranger: "I'm coming, Joshua," Sherlock called back. With one last sad glance in the mirror, he stepped out with his bag in his hands. He laughed at Mycroft, who still had the tag on his cap.

You: "What are you laughing at?" Mycroft asked sourly. He just wanted this over with and no jokes from his brother.

Stranger: Sherlock swiftly walked up and ripped the tag from the cap, waving it in Mycroft's face. "Convincing." He smiled.

You: "I can't help it if my clothing comes without tags because it's hand-tailored," Mycroft said airily. He smirked at Sherlock and continued, "It's much better that way, I think."

Stranger: "Well, not all of us can afford that, Mycroft." Sherlock hissed. "And you certainly can't, can you Joshua?" Sherlock purred louder.

You: "No, I suppose not," Mycroft replied, slightly abashed at breaking character. He stalked out of the store and headed down the street, looking for the restaurant Sherlock had mentioned.

Stranger: Sherlock followed Mycroft swiftly, jogging to catch up to him. He looked so different without his umbrella, it was almost funny.

You: Mycroft found the restaurant and walked in. He and Sherlock were seated by a short, blond woman. They ordered water to start with and looked over the menus. "So, what is the plan now?" Mycroft asked, wanting to know every piece of Sherlock's idea.

Stranger: Sherlock sighed and turned the page, reading down the menu. "Well, we hide the bags in a box or something by the guy's flat, follow him around, get to know where he goes, then once he returns to his flat, we go home. It's not going to be very exciting, but it has to be done." He turned the page again. "So I hope you bought comfortable shoes. Lots of walking and running."

You: "And what will following him around tell us that Anthea couldn't have found?" Mycroft asked. He fell silent as the waitress came back and ordered a salad and a turkey sandwich.

Stranger: Sherlock ordered just a salad and sat back to stare at his brother. "Normal stuff. Stuff that's not online, like friends, anyone he hangs out with. If he slips up, we may be able to tell right then and there he's the sniper, or, better yet, get him alone and kill him."

You: "And then I won't have to call in my favors," Mycroft mused. He had worked hard to collect those favors. "You really don't care that we will be ending another human's life?"

Stranger: "I do..." Sherlock said slowly, playing with his napkins edge. "But I'd rather kill him then have John, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson dead..."

You: "As long as we understand each other," Mycroft nodded affably at him. "And if we see a chance, I want to take it."

Stranger: "Fine, but only if it's safe enough to take." Sherlock said seriously. "Check with me before you do -anything-."

You: "And now you're giving me cautions?" Mycroft laughed, the sound filling the small diner. "I'm the careful brother, remember?"

Stranger: "Yes, but I'm the consulting detective who's done this for a long time." Sherlock hissed. "I think I win."

You: Mycroft held up his hands consolingly, avoiding another argument. "Fine, fine," he said. "What do you deem a safe enough situation?"

Stranger: "Away from people and cameras or anything like that," Sherlock thought for a moment. "If you can push him in front of a car and make it look like an accident, that would be good." He smiled hopefully. He was trying to turn it into a joke.

You: "I don't know if Canada has CCTV like London," Mycroft replied thoughtfully. "But they shouldn't be hard to spot if they are there. And a car accident might be a good idea." He purposefully ignored the memories that brought up, trying to put it behind him.

Stranger: "Okay, so car accident is on the list of maybes..." Sherlock said, glad Mycroft didn't take offense. "What did you have in mind?"

You: "If I had my umbrella," he said sardonically. "I could just trip the bastard. However, we may also want to consider a mugging gone wrong. There's plenty of dark alleys in this town."

Stranger: "So like.... make it look as though he's mugging us and we kill him in self defense?" Sherlock asked, sitting forward and leaning on the table.

You: Mycroft paused again when the waitress brought their food, smiling inanely until the woman went away. He took a bite and chewed for a moment. "That or make it look like he was mugged," Mycroft offered after swallowing the bite.

Stranger: "I don't mind getting the mugging done... I mean, we look too different for anyone to tell who it was... besides," Sherlock took a bite of his salad and continued, his mouth full. "Thaths only ith things go southhh."

You: "You shouldn't talk and chew," Mycroft chided him. "I can barely understand a word." He took another bite of his salad then started on his sandwich.

Stranger: Sherlock swallowed. "I said, that's only if things go south."

You: Mycroft nodded and left the conversation at that, his hunger the first thing on his mind at the moment. He ate slowly, decorously, and was rather impressed with how good the food actually was.

Stranger: Sherlock finished his salad way before Mycroft was even halfway done. He sat back in his chair and looked around, slowly drinking his water. "How long has it even been since we sat down and -ate- together, anyway?" He asked, avoiding Mycroft's eyes.

You: "Christmas about 10 years ago," Mycroft replied promptly. "That last argument that Mummy kicked us out of the house over."

Stranger: "I remember that," Sherlock chuckled. "Seems stupid now, doesn't it? What was it even over?"

You: "I don't think we ever finished the argument," Mycroft said, finally finishing the last of his salad. "We achieved a sort of stalemate and let it go at that. Although it is nice to be sitting here and not arguing."

Stranger: "It really is..." Sherlock finally looked back to Mycroft. "Why can't we do this back in London?"

You: Mycroft stared at him, considering all the responses he might give to that question. He finally settled on the simplest and said, "We both have comfort zones there. And the arguing between us is one of those. Here, we are totally reliant on one another."

Stranger: "I guess... Just seems stupid..." Sherlock sipped long and slowly on his water. "I mean, we work together on cases and stuff often at home... well, more of you tell me what to do and you just get the information while John and I run around town..." He laughed.

You: Mycroft laughed with him. "Maybe we should remember this when we get back. Try to fix our relationship there. I'm sure Mummy would appreciate it. She misses you," Mycroft said, studying Sherlock. The man seemed more relaxed than he'd seen him in a while.

Stranger: "Why would she miss me?" He asked, shifting his eyebrows quickly, not looking at Mycroft but rather out the window. "She doesn't show it..."

You: "You're her son, of course she misses you," Mycroft said, shocked. "You haven't come home for 10 years and the only thing she hears about you is if you are in the papers."

Stranger: Sherlock laughed sadly. "So? Everyone knows you're the favored. 'Oh, Sherlock, why don't you try harder.' 'Oh, Sherlock, why can't you achieve more?' 'Oh, Sherlock, why can't you be like -Mycroft-'" Sherlock said, imitating a bad woman's pitch. He drank more of his water, still staring out the window at nothing.

You: Mycroft felt something inside him twist at the sadness in Sherlock's voice. "She said that when you were involved in drugs," Mycroft said quietly. He thought about reaching across and laying a hand on Sherlock's arm but his brother always eschewed personal contact. He did it anyway and Sherlock didn't brush him off. "She was worried about you. She didn't like to see you hurt yourself."

Stranger: "She didn't just say it during the time I was on drugs..." Sherlock shook his head. "She said it while you were at uni, and while you were out of the house after, and even before all the drugs. She's always said it..."

You: "You're a brilliant man, Sherlock," Mycroft told him. "Possibly even more brilliant than I am. She didn't want you to waste your life. When all you wanted was puzzles and crime, she was worried you weren't reaching your full potential. She understands now. Mummy's kept every clipping of every story written about you."

Stranger: Sherlock let out a soft, unbelieving laugh. He finally looked back at Mycroft. "It doesn't matter... She only accepts me now because I'm 'popular' and all over the news."

You: "I don't know about that," Mycroft said. "Mummy has always hidden her motives well. But I believe this is genuine. You should talk to her." He patted Sherlock's arm before pulling back and taking a drink of his water.

Stranger: "I don't know... It doesn't matter anyway..." Sherlock said, setting his glass down on the table.

You: They stood when the waitress brought the check, Mycroft snatching it before Sherlock could. He paid, using money he had exchanged when they first arrived. "So, on to the flat?" Mycroft asked, walking outside.

Stranger: "Sounds good." Sherlock said, looking up and down the street, hailing a passing taxi.

You: Mycroft sat in silence for the ride, his mind going through possible murder-as-accident scenarios. He wasn't particularly bothered at this; this man could feasibly hurt Greg. He looked up as the cab slowed down.

Stranger: "You ready? This is going to be a lot of legwork." Sherlock asked quietly, tapping Mycroft on his leg.

You: "Sure," Mycroft replied. "Much as I hate legwork, doesn't mean I can't do it. How are we going to find out if Gary is at home?"

Stranger: "Easy," Sherlock said, sliding out of the cab and walking around the building. He stopped at the fire escape and grabbed the hanging ladder. "We climb. Flat 576. Fifth floor, right side."

You: Staring at the dubious fire escape, Mycroft snorted. "You think that's safe to climb? It's looks like it's going to fall apart at the first strong wind."

Stranger: "Mycroft, it's a fire escape. It has to be safe." Sherlock said flatly. He started climbing, letting the ladder bang up after him. "Follow or don't, I'm going up."

You: Following, grumbling under his breath, Mycroft climbed carefully. Though he did wait until Sherlock trusted his entire weight to a ladder before climbing it himself. If his brother wanted to be reckless, that was his choice.

Stranger: Sherlock reached the fifth floor and started along the balconies, a ledge about a foot wide providing the perfect platform. He looked back to see Mycroft looking down as he started out on the ledge. He stopped.

You: "He there?" Mycroft asked quietly, trying not to think about the 50 foot drop below him.

Stranger: "We have to go around the corner. Come on," Sherlock called back, waiting for Mycroft to follow. He didn't want to leave him behind, since he wasn't used to this.

You: Mycroft inched forward carefully, placing each foot precisely before trusting his weight to it. He reached the corner and nodded to Sherlock to go on.

Stranger: "You doing okay?" Sherlock asked as he rounded the corner carefully, the edge getting smaller on the other side, forcing him to stay on his toes.

You: "As well as I can be," Mycroft muttered. "You know I have a fear of heights, little brother?"

Stranger: "You do?" Sherlock asked, waiting for Mycroft to take the corner. "Careful, the ledge is smaller here."

You: "Yes," he replied. "Ever since I almost fell off a bridge at uni. The thought of falling terrifies me. And thanks for the warning."

Stranger: "I never knew..." Sherlock said, taking Mycroft's wrist and moving his hand up to a handhold. "I'll be right here though. You won't fall."

You: "Why share a weakness?" Mycroft replied reasonably. "You are the only one other than me who knows. Weaknesses can be so easily exploited."

Stranger: "But why not tell your brother?" Sherlock helped Mycroft around the corner and slowly continued on, making sure to stay arms reach to Mycroft.

You: "And give you a weakness to use against me?" Mycroft asked. "We've only just reached a compromise. Before, you might have exploited it." He walked carefully, hands gripping the rough edges of the brick wall.

Stranger: "I never would have put you up here if I knew that, though." Sherlock said, carefully moving around a pillar that stuck out of the wall. "I would have told you to watch the door or something."

You: "It's fine, Sherlock, but thanks," Mycroft said breathlessly. "Just don't mention how high up we are." Mycroft edged around the pillar, pressing close to it. He could feel the empty space pressing around his body and it was starting to make him hyperventilate.

Stranger: "You're ok, Mycroft. Come on..." Sherlock whispered to him, pressing his hand to the middle of his brother's back. "We still have a ways to go..."

You: Mycroft nodded tightly, fighting the urge to squeeze his eyes closed. He finished working his way around the pillar, pushing his body flat against the wall when he made it. Now, he closed his eyes and just focused on slowing down his breathing.

Stranger: "Want to breathe for a moment? Then we can continue?" Sherlock said slowly, watching Mycroft carefully.

You: "Yes, thanks," Mycroft panted, not opening his eyes. He gripped hard at an outthrust brick, the small protrusion convincing him he wasn't going to fall. He could hear Sherlock breathing beside him and tried to convince himself he was safely on the ground. Slowly, it worked and he opened his eyes again.

Stranger: Sherlock placed a hand on Mycroft's back again as he waited for Mycroft to calm down. It might have been silly, standing fifty feet up on a ledge and all, but he's never felt closer to his brother.

You: "Thank you," Mycroft said again. He smiled slightly at Sherlock, amazed that danger and possible death was actually bringing them closer. "This is why you love it, isn't it?" he asked. "The danger, the chance of dying."

Stranger: "Yes." Sherlock answered simply. "It's exciting."

You: "It rather is," Mycroft said. "Though right now, I kind of wish it was exciting on the ground and not in the air."

Stranger: "Just relax, Mycroft. Picture us on... a sidewalk... A very small sidewalk." Sherlock said lamely, starting to slide his feet a little to get moving.

You: "Small sidewalk not helping, Sherlock," Mycroft said quietly, edging forward as well. He kept his eyes glued on the brick wall in front of him. "How much farther?"

Stranger: "Well, seeing we're on the back wall, and have to make it to the right side... and we started on the left... A bit." Sherlock worried his lip and he worked down the wall, wondering how to calm his brother a bit.

You: "Just keep going," Mycroft snapped. He was starting to panic again, knowing how far they still had to go. He took a deep breath, thinking of Greg and letting a smile cross his lips.

Stranger: "What can I say to keep you calm?" Sherlock asked softly, looking back at him and seeing the smile.

You: "Nothing right now," Mycroft replied. "I'm trying to keep myself calm. Just keep going and if I stop, talk to me."

Stranger: "I'll be right here if you need me," Sherlock tried to sooth. He continued on, slowly so Mycroft could stay in arms reach.

You: Mycroft inched his way after Sherlock, trying to keep his feet as close to the wall as possible. He was taking another step forward, an eye on the upcoming pillar, when his foot slipped. He could feel his balance shifting out towards the open air.

Stranger: Sherlock heard Mycroft gasped a bit behind him. He looked back to see Mycroft's foot slip off the edge.

You: Mycroft's gaze snapped to Sherlock's face, panic crossing his own. He scrabbled desperately at the bricks as his foot slipped down and he pitched backwards. "Sherlock!" Mycroft gave a strangled yelp.

Stranger: Sherlock's hand snapped out without him really thinking about it. He tried to get a hold of Mycroft somehow without falling himself.

You: Mycroft reached for Sherlock's hand but couldn't reach it before he fell. Mycroft gasped in fear, his hands shooting upwards as he tumbled past the ledge. He caught the edge, barely hanging onto it.

Stranger: "Mycroft! Are you alright?" Sherlock panicked after him, his heart skipping a beat as his brother fell.

You: Mycroft's mouth worked but no sound came out. His eyes were wide in fear as he gazed up at Sherlock.

Stranger: Sherlock quickly shifted his way back to Mycroft's hands. He took a brick that was sticking partly out of the wall, his fingers burning and his heart pounding his ribs. Slowly, he crouched and tried to reach for Mycroft's hands.

You: "Can't.... can't let go," Mycroft whispered. "I'll fall." He risked a glance down and knew he wouldn't survive the fall. He was too high up.

Stranger: "You won't fall." Sherlock said down to him. "Try to reach up for my hand, come on, Mycroft." Sherlock kept his voice level and calm.

You: "I'm already slipping," Mycroft told him, trying to force calm into his voice. "If I let go, I won't be able to hold my weight on one hand."

Stranger: "Don't. Let. Go." Sherlock growled, reaching for him, straining his arms.

You: "I'll do my best," Mycroft said dryly. He clenched his fingers tighter on the concrete ledge, wondering how he was going to get out of this.

Stranger: "Just... think of Greg..." Sherlock hissed down to him. "Think about him. About holding him again. Keep up your will to hold on. Force yourself."

You: "All right," Mycroft said between clenched teeth. He focused his thoughts on Greg and vowed that he would make it back to him. He looked up to Sherlock and reached out a hand.

Stranger: Sherlock reached farther down and wrapped his hand around Mycroft's wrist, feeling Mycroft grab his wrist. He started to pull Mycroft back up onto the ledge, his fingers burning against the brick.

You: Mycroft helped as well as he could, pulling hard with his other hand. As Sherlock helped lift him back up, Mycroft got his knees underneath him on the concrete and took a deep breath. "Glad I kept up my diet," he said sarcastically.

Stranger: Sherlock pulled Mycroft to his feet and sighed with relief as he grabbed the brick. "Wouldn't kill you to lose more." Sherlock growled, panting.

You: "Probably not," Mycroft laughed, adrenaline flooding through him and making him giddy. "Give me a few minutes to calm down and we can go on."

Stranger: "I need to catch my breath, so take your time." Sherlock waved it off, panting.

You: Mycroft nodded and took deep breaths, fighting down the laughter bubbling in his throat. He recognized this reaction from psychology books he'd read. He closed his eyes and pictured Greg again, his smile the thing that finally calmed him down.

Stranger: "God..." Sherlock breathed, looking at Mycroft. "Let's not do that again, okay?"

You: "Sounds good to me," Mycroft said. "You ready to go on? I think I'm ok now."

Stranger: "Yeah, let's go," Sherlock said, looking back to where they were going. "Stay right behind me, you're not falling again."

You: Mycroft nodded and gripped at the bricks again. He edged after Sherlock, this time carefully looking down at the ledge and placing his feet. He didn't want to fall down and hit the ground so far below.

Stranger: Sherlock slowly edged around the corner and was relieved to see it panned out again like it was before. "It gets wider here."

You: "Good," Mycroft panted, exhausted from the exertion of clinging to the building. "Can you see his flat yet?"

Stranger: "Yeah, it's about the fifth one down." Sherlock said as he helped Mycroft around the corner.

You: "Thank you," Mycroft muttered as he felt Sherlock's hand on his shoulder. "Though I'm not looking forward to the trek back." He breathed a relieved sigh as the ledge widened and he didn't feel the need to cling as close to the wall.

Stranger: "If we're lucky, he won't be home, we can snoop around a bit, and exit down the stairs and watch for him out front." Sherlock said as he nodded in reply to Mycroft's thanks.

You: Mycroft moved a little quicker, allowing them to reach the window quickly. He waited while Sherlock looked in since his brother was closer to the window. "Well?" Mycroft asked a little testily. "Do I have to go through this hell backwards now?"

Stranger: Sherlock tested the window and found it open. He smiled, "The only hell you need to go through now is getting in this window."

You: Mycroft grinned, happy to get off the ledge. No one had noticed them so far; people didn't tend to look up. But their luck couldn't hold out forever. He waited while Sherlock scampered in the window then folded himself through.

Stranger: "You okay, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked as he landed on the ground next to him. Sherlock made his way to a nearby desk.

You: "I'm fine. Just a little winded," Mycroft said, standing up and brushing himself off. He looked around the flat with interest, taking in all the little details. "Doesn't have much of himself here, does he?"

Stranger: "Nope..." Sherlock said, distracted, "meaning what he does have in here of himself, will overexpose him..."

You: "Well, I'm going to get a glass of water. I need it." Mycroft walked into the small kitchen and turned the water on while he searched for a glass. As soon as it was ice cold, he held the glass under it then downed the water in two large gulps.

Stranger: "Just put everything back perfectly." Sherlock warned. He opened a desk door and looked at the contents with shock. "My- I mean... Joshua? Come here..."

You: Mycroft turned the water off after he refilled the glass and felt a little curl of worry at Sherlock's use of his assumed name. He walked back in and cleared his throat.

Stranger: "Look at this..." Sherlock stepped back from the desk.

You: Mycroft looked in the drawer and saw a large sheaf of papers. They were pictures of everyone close to Sherlock, from far away shots to close ups. "What is this?"

Stranger: Sherlock picked up a few and found John's, he stared at it sadly. "Proof..." He said sadly.

You: "Proof?" Mycroft repeated, staring at the picture of John. "Well, that's good. But we have another problem now. Where is he?"

Stranger: "Don't know, but we should get out before he gets back." Sherlock pocketed John's page, unable to help himself. He handed Lestrade's to Mycroft.

You: Mycroft looked at the picture, his thumb caressing the paper. He knew his feelings were probably transparent as glass right now, but he didn't care. He hadn't seen Greg in almost two weeks.

Stranger: "Just take it," Sherlock said as he took Mycroft's glass of water to put it back. "We need to go."

You: "All right." Mycroft folded the paper gently and slid it into his pocket. He looked around the room after pushing the drawer back in and walked over to close the window. He looked back at Sherlock and asked, "Ready to go?"

Stranger: "Yeah, come on." Sherlock started towards the door and paused. The lock was turning. He looked back at Mycroft and mouthed 'hide.'

You: The elder Holmes darted into the bedroom and into the closet there. He pulled the door closed just as the front door opened and Gary walked in. He studied the man and realized he was very unassuming. One would easily lose him in a crowd. He hoped Sherlock found a hiding place before Gary looked up.

Stranger: Sherlock pounced behind the couch that was pressed almost to the wall, with a landing as soft as a cat. He slowed his breathing to try to quiet it.

You: Gary walked into his apartment, his eyes automatically scanning every inch of the place. The living room looked the same and he headed into the kitchen. Which was where the first warning bell went off. The handle of the faucet was in a different position and the sink was wet. He glanced around quickly, noting all the places someone could hide.

Stranger: Sherlock covered his mouth with his hand as Gary neared the couch. He couldn't risk the noise of breathing.

You: Mycroft tensed as he watched Gary stalk around the flat. The sniper obviously knew something was wrong and Mycroft cursed the urge that caused him to get a drink. Obviously, that's what the man had seen.

Stranger: Sherlock had no idea where Mycroft ran off to, he listened as Gary walked towards the bedroom, his footsteps light for someone like him.

You: Gary stalked into his bedroom, hoping to grab one of his guns before something jumped him. He looked at his closet doors, thinking he heard quiet breathing behind them. He stepped forward carefully, one hand reaching for the handle.

Stranger: Sherlock cursed as he risked a looked behind him to Gary. He was reaching for the closet door carefully, like he was expecting a surprise. Sherlock started to panic.

You: Mycroft tensed all his muscles, ready to tackle Gary as soon as he opened the closet doors. He stopped breathing, focusing everything on the man in front of him. Then, he heard a muffled sound from the living room.

Stranger: Sherlock had stood up from his spot, not wanting Gary to find Mycroft, knowing Mycroft couldn't take him. He sprinted towards him, tackling him to the ground.

You: As he saw Sherlock and the sniper hit the ground, Mycroft burst from the closet. He saw Gary flip underneath Sherlock and land several quick punches on his brother's stomach. Mycroft lashed out, kicking Gary in the temple and knocking him out.

Stranger: Seeing Gary was knocked out, Sherlock rolled off him, clutching his ribs. They were burning from a hard punch that was placed there. Breathing was harder then before. He closed his eyes.

You: "You all right?" Mycroft asked quietly, pressing gentle fingers to Sherlock's ribs. He wanted to make sure nothing was broken.

Stranger: "Can't breathe..." Sherlock huffed.

You: "I don't feel any broken ribs," Mycroft told him. "Just calm down and breathe deeply." He sat back and patted Sherlock's arm.

Stranger: "What should we... Do with him?" Sherlock asked quietly.

You: "Well, this seems like a rather opportune moment," Mycroft replied, just as quietly. "Think we can set it up as a home invasion gone wrong?"

Stranger: "I guess..." Sherlock said, moaning as he sat up. "What do you think?"

You: "I think we should take this chance," Mycroft said musingly. He helped Sherlock sit up, gently supporting his back. "After all, he had pictures of everyone, not just Mrs. Hudson. I want... them safe."

Stranger: "Do what you think." Sherlock said slowly, forcing himself to stand. "I'll let you take care of this one."

You: Mycroft nodded after one last sharp glance at his brother. Sherlock seemed to be recovering well and he stood to look around the living room. He started going through the room, ripping the cushions off the couch, the drawers out of the desk, tumbling the CD's and DVD's to the ground. He headed into the kitchen and gave it the same treatment before heading into the bedroom. He found Gary's handgun in the nightstand, a serviceable Glock, and hefted it appreciably. He fired a few shots into the wall then turned to the unconscious sniper. He aimed and fired three shots into his chest. "We should probably get out of here," Mycroft said, dropping the gun in the living room.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded him and followed him to the door. He was still breathing heavily. They made their way, slowly, down the stairs and found themselves in a fancy, abandoned lobby.

You: Mycroft breathed a relieved sigh and pulled out his phone. He sent a text to Anthea telling her to cancel the plans to buy the hotel chain and slipped his phone back into his pocket after the return text. He looked at Sherlock worriedly, his brother still panting slightly. "You ok?"

Stranger: "Should.... Be...." Sherlock panted. "Just hurts like mad to breathe..."

You: "Maybe we should get you to a hospital," Mycroft replied worriedly. "Just because your ribs aren't broken doesn't mean something else isn't wrong."

Stranger: "I don't know..." Sherlock said slowly. "That would just... Take... Time..."

You: Mycroft's eyes narrowed as Sherlock trailed off and his breathing grew shallower. "Something's wrong with you," he said. "We're going to the hospital. Now." He flagged down a cab and climbed in, telling the driver to take them to the nearest hospital. He kept talking to Sherlock the whole way there, seeing his eyes start to flutter

Stranger: "Whats our... Story?" Sherlock said slowly, breathing shallow. "My name? How this... Happened...?"

You: "Your name is Dean and you were assaulted on the street," Mycroft said, thinking quickly. "I'm a friend of yours and found you close to where we were planning on meeting today. You didn't see who did it and neither did I."

Stranger: "Last... Name...?" Sherlock breathed painfully.

You: "Michaels," Mycroft said, staring in worry down at Sherlock. His brother's head was propped against his shoulder and he was panting, though shallowly. "Hold on, brother. We're almost there."

Stranger: "God... Hur... Hur..." Sherlock trailed off, closing his eyes.

You: "No, Sherlock, keep your eyes open," Mycroft begged him. "You can't leave now. We've still got one more to take care of. And you need to get back to John."

Stranger: "John..." Sherlock purred, hissing in pain slightly. But his name brought a smile to Sherlock's lips.

You: "Yes, John," Mycroft said, watching as the cab pulled up outside the hospital. "Stay alive for John." He manuevered Sherlock out of the cab and walked him up to the entrance. He flagged down one of the nurses and explained what had happened. Well, the story he'd made up.

Stranger: "For John..." Sherlock agreed, the nurses strapping him to a gurney, feeling Mycroft take his hand. "....And you..."

You: "Thank you," Mycroft replied, giving Sherlock a slight smile. "Feel better soon, brother." He watched as the nurses wheeled him away then went to pace the waiting room impatiently.

Stranger: It was a good two hours before a doctor came out and walked up to Mycroft. "Hi, your the friend of Mr. Micheals, am I correct?"

You: "Yes, I am. Is he ok?" Mycroft answered, staring intently at the doctor.

Stranger: "He should be fine. A little bruising is all, very painful. But he should recover fine in about a week or two. No moving till then. He can go back home but no restlessness." The doctor smiled at Mycroft.

You: "All right," Mycroft agreed. "What was making it hard for him to breathe? He looked like he was almost dying when I brought him in."

Stranger: "There's bruising on both the ribs and lungs. It's very painful thing to breathe through. We was probably just dealing with extreme lack of oxygen." The doctor said, looking over his charts.

You: "Thank you very much. When can I take him home?" Mycroft asked, relief flooding through him. He didn't want to lose his brother after the tentative truce they had reached.

Stranger: "He can go in about another hour or two. You are welcome to go see him, if you wish." The doctor offered.

You: Mycroft nodded at him and followed as the doctor turned and walked further into the hospital. He heard Sherlock complaining before they reached the room and smiled as he reached the door. "Feeling better, I see," he said quietly.

Stranger: Sherlock stopped the arguing he was doing with the nurse to turn to Mycroft. He smiled slightly and nodded.

You: Mycroft nodded to the nurse as she beat a hasty retreat and turned back to his brother. "The doctor said you can leave in a few hours," Mycroft explained.

Stranger: "Amazing." Sherlock breathed, hissing in pain a little.

You: "Did they give you anything for the pain?" Mycroft asked, his worries over his brother's previous drug use surfacing.

Stranger: "Yeah, but it didn't... didn't work..." Sherlock growled in pain, closing his eyes.

You: Mycroft looked him over, noting the lines of pain and tension. "What did they give you and do you know how much?" he asked.

Stranger: "I don't..." Sherlock winced. He looked up at Mycroft, his eyes pleading.

You: Mycroft sighed and pressed the nurse's call button. He waited until one showed up and asked, "What pain killers have you given my friend? They aren't working so he either needs different ones or a higher dose."

Stranger: "Vicodin, just the standard amount. It should kick in soon." The nurse said, walking over to Sherlock's bed.

You: "Maybe not," Mycroft disagreed. "Dean had a... problem with drugs in the past and has built up a tolerance. Is there any way to get him something else?"

Stranger: "I'll go get another dose," The nurse said, exiting the room.

You: "Thank you," Mycroft called after her before turning back to Sherlock. "Though if you turn back to drugs, brother dear, I'm not hesitating to drop you in rehab again."

Stranger: "I won't... " Sherlock promised, looking his brother in the eye.

You: Mycroft nodded at him, opening his mouth to speak. He stopped when the nurse came back and injected something in Sherlock's IV. "This dose should help," she said. "Call me in 15 minutes if he's still in pain."

Stranger: "Thank you." Sherlock heard his brother call after the nurse. Sherlock closed his eyes, trying to ease the pain and let the medication work.

You: Mycroft eased down into the chair next to Sherlock's bed and studied his brother. The only thing he could read was the pain the man must be feeling. "You ok?" Mycroft finally asked. "Second one down."

Stranger: "Still hurts." Sherlock breathed, "But otherwise, I'm good. I'm just glad that... the second sniper is.... is down..."

You: Mycroft nodded again and they sat in silence, counting down the fifteen minutes. Noting the easing of pain in Sherlock's face, Mycroft relaxed. He was starting to nod off when he heard his phone beep. Sniper that went to America is back. Watching Mrs. Hudson. - Anthea

Stranger: "Who is it, Mycroft? New lead?" Sherlock asked, his eyes feeling heavy.

You: "Anthea," Mycroft replied, staring at his phone. The American sniper was back? "She says that the sniper who went to America came back. He's watching Mrs. Hudson again."

Stranger: "Watching Mrs. Hudson? But Gary's dead..." Sherlock said confused.

You: "Apparently, we killed the wrong man," Mycroft said wryly, his mouth twisting in annoyance. He shifted, the paper folded in his pocket biting into his leg. "Though I do wonder why he had the photos he did."

Stranger: "Can she find out who we killed then?" Sherlock asked, his eyes finally closing.

You: "I'll have her get all the information she can," Mycroft promised. "You sleep now." He sent the text to Anthea, listening to his brother's soft snores. Something he hadn't heard since they were kids and he was still Sherlock's hero.

Stranger: I just hacked Gary's email. -Anthea

You: What did you find? - MH

Stranger: Uh, mostly emails to blocked email accounts. They say things that look like plans for stalking John and Mrs. Hudson and Greg. -Anthea

You: Does it list who the specific snipers are? Was Greg one of them? - MH

Stranger: The only names on here are John's, Mrs. Hudson's and Greg's. That's all. -Anthea

You: So this Gary. He wasn't actually one of the ones assigned. -He- assigned them after Moriarty's death? - MH

Stranger: That's what it looks like. Although it doesn't sound like Moriarty assigned him to the job. -Anthea

You: No? Then who did? Is there any sort of name in the emails? - MH

Stranger: No names in the emails but the ones I've told you before. -Anthea

You: Can you trace the blocked accounts? Find the source? - MH

Stranger: I can try. No promises though. -Anthea

You: Thank you. Text me as soon as you have any more information? - MH

Stranger: Yes, sir. -Anthea

You: Mycroft sat back, his phone balancing on his leg. He allowed his eyes to slip closed, knowing he would wake when Anthea texting him back.

Stranger: Sherlock woke up some hours later. He looked over at Mycroft, who was asleep. The pain had came back and he was hissing in pain.

You: Mycroft slowly swam back to consciousness as he heard muted swears. He looked up to see Sherlock glaring at his IV. "What's wrong?" Mycroft asked groggily.

Stranger: "Pain..." Sherlock muttered. "More than before."

You: "More?" Mycroft repeated worriedly. He pressed the call button again, calling a nurse into the room. "He says he's in more pain than before," Mycroft explained. "Can you get the doctor please? Something's wrong."

Stranger: "We'll get someone in here right away." The nurse said, rushing from the room.

You: Mycroft stood and paced, his worry for his brother overshadowing his mind. He could hear Sherlock start to cough and looked up sharply when the doctor came in. "He's worse now," Mycroft stated.

Stranger: "Let me take a look." The doctor walked briskly over to the bed.

You: The doctor prodded at Sherlock's ribs, making sure he hadn't missed a break the first time around. They were all very solid and he moved down to palpate his stomach. The doctor frowned when he felt something give under his fingers that shouldn't have. "I'm going to get him an MRI," the doctor told them both. "Something is wrong and I missed it. I'm sorry."

Stranger: "You.. -missed-... it?!" Sherlocked said angrily.

You: "We were worried about your ribs at the time. And nothing felt wrong when I palpated your abdomen before," the doctor explained. "What have you been doing?"

Stranger: Sherlock looked over at Mycroft, panic flashing in his eyes.

You: "Sleeping," Mycroft replied. "We both fell asleep. Why? What's wrong with him?"

Stranger: Sherlocked hissed in pain again, feeling like he was going to be sick.

You: "I can't say exactly yet," the doctor hedged. "That's why I'm ordering an MRI for him. Has anyone else been in here?" Mycroft shook his head then replied, "Just a nurse. She gave Dean some more pain medication when the first dose wasn't doing anything for the pain."

Stranger: "And how did she inject it? Did she tell you what it was, or give you her name?" The doctor asked, checking Sherlock's IV.

You: "No," Mycroft said. "She didn't tell me her name but she was dressed as a nurse. And she injected it through his IV. I wasn't here for the first dose, though."

Stranger: The doctor picked up the medical records. "Doesn't say anything about a second dose..."

You: "What?" Mycroft yelled. "She was here. I watched her inject him since the first dose didn't work. You need to get him tested. Find out what she gave him."

Stranger: Sherlock groaned, doubling over in his bed.

You: The doctor pressed the emergency call button and the room flooded with nurses and other doctors. They rushed Sherlock out, ignoring all the questions Mycroft peppered them with. The first doctor gave him a sympathetic glance then hurried after the gurney.

Stranger: The doctor came out about an hour and a half later, coming over to Mycroft.

You: Mycroft stood quickly, his eyes sweeping over the doctor. The man was tired, bags showing dark under his eyes. "I've got good news," the doctor said quietly.

Stranger: "Please, tell me!" Mycroft said hurriedly.

You: "He's better now," the doctor said. "We did some tests and found that he was injected with a high dose of Heparin. It's an anticoagulant and was causing your friend to bleed out. That's what I felt in his stomach, a pool of blood. We've operated to remove the excess blood, repaired the damage and counteracted the effects."

Stranger: "Who would have done such a thing?" Mycroft asked slowly, anger coursing through him.

You: "I don't know," the doctor replied. "But I've called the police and gathered the security tapes. They should be able to get to the bottom of this."

Stranger: "They better." Mycroft growled, his fists clenching.

You: The doctor nodded at him and walked away. He had other patients to deal with. Mycroft paced a bit more, his mind running through the possibilities. The only thing he could think of was that someone knew who they were. He stopped when his phone beeped another text.

Stranger: Can you come here? -SH

You: How did you get a phone? - MH

Stranger: I've had it. I always have my phone. -SH

You: All right. On my way. Where are you at? - MH

Stranger: Room... 221 -SH

You: How very... fitting. - MH. Mycroft dropped his phone into his pocket and walked quickly through the halls. He made it to room 221 and walked inside. He looked curiously at his brother, noting he was pale but not overly so.

Stranger: "I don't like the room number." Sherlock growled to Mycroft.

You: "Why not?" Mycroft asked, moving to sit next to Sherlock. "I think it's fairly appropriate."

Stranger: "John..." Sherlock said, sadness taking him over for a moment, before going back to a hard to read expression.

You: "I would think you'd like to be in a room that reminds you of him," Mycroft said. "The thought of him kept you awake until we got here."

Stranger: "I miss him..." Sherlock said slowly, biting his lip.

You: "I know," Mycroft said. "So why don't you take comfort in the fact that you can imagine yourself close to him here?"

Stranger: "Because every time I think of him, I just see him and Lestrade... kiss..." Sherlock bothered his bottom lip even more, tasting the copper taste of his blood.

You: Mycroft sucked in a breath as that mental image invaded his brain. "You have almost two years worth of memories of John," he said quietly. "Pick something else to think about."

Stranger: "I can't... that memory hurts too much and just... pushes its way to the front..." Sherlock said, shifting in bed and wincing.

You: "Well, we probably won't have to be here much longer," Mycroft said. "We should be able to leave in a few hours."

Stranger: "That's good..." Sherlock said, forcing a smile to Mycroft. "How are you, by the way?"

You: "Better," Mycroft smiled. "I was very worried about you little brother. That helpful doctor has already called the police and gathered the security tapes."

Stranger: "Ah, a case!" Sherlock smiled. "Maybe we can help and-"

You: "No!" Mycroft cut him off. "The last thing you should be doing is helping on a case. You want someone to figure it out? Find out you're not dead?"

Stranger: "No, but Mycroft... what about... What about... We have to help!" Sherlock shuttered.

You: "We have to leave it up to the police," Mycroft replied doggedly. "I'm not risking your life over this." Their incipient argument was interrupted by another beep from Mycroft's phone.

Stranger: Can't track them in the email. -Anthea

You: Were you able to find out anything else? - MH

Stranger: No, the emails lead to a dead end. Though I'll keep it up to watch to see if any of the other snipers email Gary. -Anthea

You: Thank you. Keep on it. - MH. Mycroft slipped his phone back into his pocket and said, "No more information from Anthea. Though I think we should take one more look around Gary's flat before we leave. We need to find any information we can."

Stranger: "Can we try to take the stairs?" Sherlock moaned, a small smile dancing on his lips.

You: "Most definitely," Mycroft said, smiling back at Sherlock. "I don't think I can take another trip along that ledge."

Stranger: "I don't want to try again... Plus it was just way too stressful... For both of us.."

You: "I agree," Mycroft nodded. "I'm going to go find that doctor and see when you can get released." He heads out to the nurse's station, asking them to page Dean's doctor. The man walks up several minutes later. "How can I help you now?" he asks, smiling.

Stranger: "Any chance you can tell me when Dean can be released?" Mycroft smiled as the doctor went for Sherlock's charts.

You: "I'd like to keep him overnight, preferably," the doctor mused. "But I suppose if he's being fussy about it, he can leave in about four hours. Long enough to make sure all the heparin is out of his system."

Stranger: "That would be best." Mycroft smiled again, leaning on the counter.

You: The doctor nodded and turned to the nurse listening to them. "Sandra, can you bring Mr. Michaels his discharge papers in four hours?" the doctor asks. She nods and he turns back to Mycroft, holding out his hand for the man to shake.

Stranger: "Thank you so much." Mycroft smiled, taking the man's hand and shaking it.

You: The doctor smiled warmly and walked away, his beeper pinging at him. Mycroft walked back to Sherlock's room and told him the news.

Stranger: "Four hours? Arg, well, I guess that's better than nothing..." Sherlock sighed.

You: "He wanted to keep you overnight," Mycroft said wryly. "But he apparently knew you were a bad patient and said four hours. The nurse will be coming with the discharge paperwork then."

Stranger: "Alright." Sherlock yawned. "We should plan our next move..."

You: "I think the first thing we do is head back to the flat," Mycroft said. "The police are probably done, if they were called in in the first place."

Stranger: "Agreed..." Sherlock nodded, obviously thinking. "I'm sorry to tell you we might not be going home for a while..."

You: "I know," Mycroft sighed. "But Anthea is looking for the other snipers. She is extremely capable."

Stranger: "But I'm sure you're busy with other things." Sherlock smiled.

You: "Sherlock, your safety as well as that of those you and I care about are important to me," Mycroft said testily. "The other things can wait. After all, it's just world politics." He smiles wryly, inviting Sherlock to share in the joke.

Stranger: Sherlock chuckled, pain making him wince slightly. "Just world politics..." He repeated, smiling. "These four hours won't pass fast enough..."

You: Mycroft nodded and wondered what would keep his brother distracted long enough. He launched into a story of when they were younger and Sherlock wanted to be a pirate. He grinned, watching as the younger Holmes blushed.

Stranger: "Shut up, Mycroft." Sherlock blushed, looking out the window. He smiled slightly, remember his dream as a kid. "Just... tell a different story would you?"

You: "What would you like to hear?" Mycroft asked, smirking at getting under his brother's skin. That's one of the few memories of them together he actually enjoyed.

Stranger: "What about the night before you went to uni? You remember how much fun we had?" Sherlock smiled, thinking back to that time.

You: "What sneaking into the museum and rearranging all the displays in opposite chronological order?" Mycroft asked, tilting his head. He grins and relates the story, finishing with them hiding in a hedge to avoid museum security.

Stranger: "And you remember that Christmas in my senior year where we were home alone?" Sherlock smiled bigger, almost laughing.

You: "I do," Mycroft laughed warmly. "I don't think Mummy ever forgave us for ruining her favorite tablecloth with that experiment."

Stranger: Sherlock laughed, "I don't think she did. But do you remember her face when she saw the ceiling?"

You: "And I remember yours when she made you scrub all the mashed potato off of it," Mycroft said. "You remember when you were given your first chemistry set for Christmas?"

Stranger: "Why was it she made -me- clean it anyway, what happened to -you-?!" Sherlock chuckled. "I do... that was a little too much fun..."

You: "Well, you're the one she found flicking the potatoes at the ceiling," Mycroft smirked. "I heard her coming and dropped my fork." He thought about the weird smells and noises that came from Sherlock's room for a week after he got the chemistry set then wrinkled his nose. "I still haven't forgiven you for blowing up my room," he joked.

Stranger: Sherlock smirked, "Yep, that experiment went perfectly according to plan!"

You: "And where did you get the materials to do that?" Mycroft asked, hoping to sate a years-long curiousity. "I checked that set out carefully before I bought it. Nothing should have been explosive."

Stranger: "Corner store," Sherlock smiled. "Household supplies can get explosive once mixed together."

You: Mycroft laughed and they continued to share stories of happier times. He finally feels the tension between them relaxing, the stories bonding them together as brothers again. Mycroft looked up, surprised, when the nurse walked in with a clipboard.

Stranger: "You guys should be able to go. How's the pain?" She asked, smiling at Sherlock.

You: "Mostly gone," Sherlock replied, relieved. He filled out the paperwork quickly, signing his assumed name and handing it back to the nurse.

Stranger: Sherlock watched the nurse leave, then moved to get out of bed. "Can you pass me my clothes, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked, pointing to a chair on the far wall.

You: Mycroft grabbed the clothing and placed it close to his brother. He turned his back, really not wanting to watch Sherlock change.

Stranger: Sherlock changed quickly, throwing the hospital dressing gown on the ground. He told Mycroft it was safe to turn back around, then went over to him, awkwardly pulling him into a hug. "Thank you..." He said, awkwardly, into Mycroft's ear.

You: Mycroft returned the hug, saying, "You're welcome. Try not to get injured again, eh?"

Stranger: "Just because we're in Canada, doesn't mean you have to talk like them." Sherlock smiled, letting Mycroft go and stepping back.

You: "When in Rome..." Mycroft trailed off, shrugging. He watched as Sherlock walked out of the hospital room, making sure his brother really was ok with leaving this early. They headed outside and hailed a cab, going back to the sniper's flat.

Stranger: Sherlock went to the door and talked his way into the flat, noticing there was a new live-in on the top floor. They made it up the stairs and Sherlock picked the lock.

You: Mycroft walked in first, ignoring the glare Sherlock sent him. Apparently, the police hadn't been called yet as everything was as they had left it. "Where do you want to start?" Mycroft asked Sherlock.

Stranger: "Bedroom, always the bedroom. It's a big personal area." Sherlock said, brushing past quickly to the bedroom.

You: Mycroft followed, glaring at the body still lying in the bathroom. He stepped around it delicately, looking for anything personal that might elicit a clue.

Stranger: "Look for personal pictures, papers, things that will give us some hints towards the other snipers even. An address book would be gold!" Sherlock said, dumping a drawer onto the floor.

You: Mycroft nodded and searched the nightstand on the other side of the bed, paging quickly through junk mail. He smiled when he found a little brown notebook tucked in the bottom of the drawer. "Something like this?" he asked, waving it at Sherlock.

Stranger: "Yes!" Sherlock said, jumping to his feet and snatching the notebook happily.

You: Mycroft grinned at the exuberance, forcibly reminded of Sherlock at 6 finding the treasure chest Mycroft had hidden for him. "So, should we keep searching or is that going to be enough?"

Stranger: "We should make another good sweep of the place." Sherlock said, flipping through the notebook. He shut it and put it in his coat pocket. "Good work, Mycroft."

You: Mycroft searched the rest of the nightstand, finding nothing of interest. He moved to the closet he had hidden in, searching all the clothing for papers or a phone. He found a floorboard that shifted slightly under his probing. "Sherlock, come look at this," he said excitedly.

Stranger: Sherlock came up to Mycroft and looked in the closet, noticing the floor board. He went back to the living room and took a crowbar, placing it under the floorboard and starting to work it.

You: Mycroft stepped back to give Sherlock room to work, not wanting to get hit by an errant elbow or the floorboard when it finally popped up. With a tortured squeal of wood nails, the wood board popped up.

Stranger: Sherlock stumbled back as the floorboard popped, then started to go through the items. There was papers, lots of paper. "Grab a bag, we're taking them all." Sherlock said, picking one up and noticing they were plans.

You: Mycroft rolled his eyes at his brother's peremptory tone before looking up in the closet. He found a gym bag on the shelf above and pulled it down, handing it to Sherlock. "Anything interesting?" he asked curiously.

Stranger: "We'll need to look through it all later. It looks important, but we need to finish here as quickly as possible." Sherlock said, flinging the bag over his shoulder and starting to the bathroom.

You: "You missed something," Mycroft called after him, noting the glint of metal in the small cubbyhole. He reached in and pulled out a phone, the case a shiny silver.

Stranger: "Grab it for me, will you?" Sherlock called, throwing through the items in the bathroom.

You: Mycroft opened the phone and thumbed to the contacts, curious to see if anything of import was on the phone. He stopped, mouth dropping open, as the names scrolled by. Eric Schmidt, James Moriarty, Sebastian Moran, Srechko Hunt. Could these be the snipers?

Stranger: "Nothing in the bathroom." Sherlock said angrily, coming back into the bedroom and storming to the living room.

You: Mycroft followed, his mind whirring through the possibilities. "Sherlock, I think I've found them. Or a link to them at least," he said quietly, holding out the phone.

Stranger: Sherlock paused and turned back to Mycroft. "What?"

You: "The names on this phone," Mycroft explained. "I think the ones that aren't Moriarty are the other snipers. I recognize Sebastian Moran's name. He's the one who's targeting John, I believe."

Stranger: Sherlock snapped into action at once, snatching the phone and scrolling through the names. "Think we can track them with the numbers?"

You: "If Anthea can't I'm sure Greg can," Mycroft said, forcing himself to speak the DI's name smoothly. "This is part of his division after all."

Stranger: Sherlock smiled. "Send them both the numbers, can you?" Sherlock said, starting back to the living room and tossing Mycroft the phone.

You: Mycroft texted the numbers to both Anthea and Greg, giving the same impersonal message to each. He didn't want to make Greg angry or have him choose not to do this out of spite.

Stranger: Why do you need me to do this? -GL

You: Because I believe these are the numbers to all the snipers. If we can find them, we can end this. - MH

Stranger: Whatever. -GL

You: Will you help? Please? - MH

Stranger: I don't see why I should, but I will. Although I really couldn't give a damn about Sherlock at all. I'm happy with John. -GL

You: I understand... Thank you for your help. If you find the information, please text it to me. I won't text back if you don't want me to. - MH

Stranger: I don't think I will... -GL

You: Mycroft wiped a hand over his eyes; he could hear the anger in the words. He hoped that Sherlock would be able to find a way to fix the damage, but he really doubted his brother could. He was about to put his phone away when it beeped again.

Stranger: I'll run these now. -Anthea

You: Thank you. Text back as soon as you find something. - MH

Stranger: Will do, sir. -Anthea

You: Mycroft put his phone away and looked up to see Sherlock staring at him with a strangely unreadable expression. "What?" Mycroft asked, annoyed.

Stranger: "You look mad." Sherlock said, going back to searching.

You: "Not mad," Mycroft replied. "Just... tired. I have no idea how you're going to keep your promise. Not after all that's happened."

Stranger: "Ah, Lestrade being bitchy?" Sherlock asked, walking over to Mycroft and taking his phone out of his pocket, going to the messages.

You: "Bitchy?" Mycroft repeated, rolling the word around his tongue. "Maybe. He wasn't happy I texted him. And give me my phone back."

Stranger: Sherlock turned so Mycroft couldn't get his phone. He read the messages. They restarted and Sherlock realized Mycroft never deleted any of the messages he sent to the man.

You: "Sherlock, those are personal," Mycroft complains, trying to grab his phone out of his brother's hands.

Stranger: "Oh please." Sherlock chuckled. "I'm only scanning. You two are sooo cute." He joked, reading the cheesy messages.

You: Mycroft gave up trying to get his phone, unwilling to childishly circle his brother. He stands, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Stranger: "You two are so cute together!" Sherlock cooed, smiling and laughing. "Oh, 'I love you' and 'I love you, too.' 'Hey, what are you doing tonight?' So cute~."

You: "Sherlock, stop please," Mycroft said quietly, glaring at his brother. "Those are very personal to me."

Stranger: "They aren't personal, Mycroft. I've heard you guys before. Watched you kiss and cuddle and all."

You: "But the words are mine," Mycroft whispered. "They're all I have left."

Stranger: "Mycroft, I didn't know you were such a sap!" Sherlock chuckled, tossing Mycroft his phone and laughing.

You: Mycroft put it back in his pocket and didn't reply. Hearing the words in his brother's mouth just reminded him of when he first read them, his heart pounding in joy. Now, he just felt empty and tiny. "Are we done here," he asked instead.

Stranger: "Yeah, we're done." Sherlock smiled, moving the bag on his shoulder and moving towards the door. "Come on, you sap you."

You: "Don't," Mycroft snapped, his temper finally fraying. "Look at where emotion and sentiment have gotten me!"

Stranger: "Relax, I'm only lightening the mood here." Sherlock said, holding his hands up, smiling.

You: "Don't use those texts to try to lighten the mood," Mycroft growled. "Greg is not a joke."

Stranger: "Fine," Sherlock huffed. "What would make you feel better, taking a few shots on what isn't me and John?"

You: "No," Mycroft replied, shaking his head. "I'm not going to do that. Just drop the subject. And forget what you read."

Stranger: "But it was cute." Sherlock smiled. "It really was."

You: "Yeah?" Mycroft replied, his treacherous mind supplying him with parts of the texts. "That's nice. But it's over now. And I have serious doubts about whether I'm ever going to receive a nice text from Greg again."

Stranger: "Oh come on," Sherlock frowned, bothering his bottom lip. "If John gives Lestrade up and comes back to me, I don't see who else Lestrade would run to. Or even before that. I think once you show how much you need him, I think he'll come running back." Sherlock said, taking out the pictures of John and caressing them with his thumb. "He loves you... He just needs to be reminded how much."

You: Mycroft shook his head again, watching Sherlock caress the picture of John. He thought of the picture of Greg in his own pocket but refused to take it out. He wasn't a lovesick teenager. "I think you underestimate his feelings, Sherlock," Mycroft said quietly.

Stranger: "Oh?" Sherlock asked, refusing to take his eyes off the pictures of John. "I don't think so. I saw the way he looked at you, Mycroft. The way he always looks at you. There's something different about it, something special. He has it every time he looks at you. You're lucky...."

You: "Was lucky," Mycroft corrected, his hand pressing against the picture in his pocket. "You saw the last texts he sent me. I doubt he would look at me like that anymore. And maybe you're right. Caring is not an advantage."

Stranger: "Mycroft, I told you... He might just need reminding of how much he actually loves you," Sherlock said, nudging his brother with his elbow. "Besides, at least you can talk to Lestrade, not having to hide from him. I would give anything to get a text from John, even if it was something like 'never talk to me again'. The fact that it would be John would just... Drive me insane."

You: "Very true," Mycroft agreed. "All right, let's drop this topic. I'm done complaining to my little brother." He smiled slightly to take the sting out of his words. "Let's get going, I think we've found everything we need to," he finished.

Stranger: "Agreed." Sherlock said as they climbed into the back of a cab. Mycroft slid in next to him and they were quiet all the way back to the room.

You: Mycroft had just settled down on the bed to relax after the long day when his phone beeped again.  
Got the information on those numbers. Emailed them to you. - GL

Stranger: Thank you... I'll leave you alone now. -MH

You: Mycroft looked up at Sherlock clearing his throat. "Greg emailed me the information on the phone numbers," he explained.

Stranger: "Can you read it out loud?" Sherlock asked, turning his head on his pillow to look to Mycroft.

You: Mycroft opened his email on his phone, scrolling to the one from Greg. "Srechko Hunt, born of an American father and Australian mother in Boston Massachusets, was dishonorably discharged about two years ago. He was a sniper and quickly found work as a mercenary. Similar story for Sebastian Moran. They were both contacted by Moriarty and pulled into the IOU organization. There's an address for Hunt in London though no address for Moran."

Stranger: "Then I guess london is our next stop." Sherlock said, sitting up, thinking. "But I want to stick around here a little bit. There's still the fact someone may know who I am and tried to poison me."

Stranger: Sherlock repocketed the pictures of John and turned to stare out the window of the moving cab. "Can you book us another flight? For tomorrow, maybe?"

You: "Easily," Mycroft replied. He pulled out his phone again, his fingers flying over the keys. He waited until Anthea texted back and told him they had a flight leaving at 4pm the next day. "4pm tomorrow," he told Sherlock.

Stranger: "Perfect," Sherlock yawned, leaning back and closing his eyes.

You: Mycroft watched his brother as the cab wended its way through crowded streets. He knew how little Sherlock actually slept and he must be really exhausted if he was sleeping now. Mycroft nudged Sherlock gently when the taxi stopped outside their hotel.

Stranger: Sherlock shot Mycroft an annoyed look before realizing they had stopped. He followed Mycroft out of the cab and up to the room door.

You: Mycroft grabbed a clean suit out of the drawers and went into the bathroom to change. Much as it amused him to picture Greg's reaction to these clothes, he wanted out of them as soon as possible. He came back out to find Sherlock sprawled across his bed and snoring lightly.

Stranger: He hadn't bothered to wait to change. Sherlock was too tired to do anything but fall right onto the bed and close his eyes, sleep and vivid dreams pulling his deeper down. John's face filled his mind and his dreams played John's voice all too perfectly.

You: Mycroft looked outside and noticed that the sun had set and the sky was dark. He decided to follow Sherlock's example and get some sleep while he could. He had a feeling that sleep would be in short supply once they got to London. Falling into a deep sleep, Mycroft dreamed of Greg and was happy for a short time.

\--------------------------

Stranger: Sherlock awoke and got out of bed noiselessly, noticing Mycroft was still sleeping. He noticed the slip of paper sticking out of Mycroft's arms and just saw, what barely could be made out to be, the corner of Lestrade's picture. He sighed deeply, seeing how his brother unconsciously cuddled the pictures.

You: Mycroft slowly drifted to consciousness, the sound of Greg's voice receding into his memory. He sighed as he woke fully and looked down at the picture he was clutching. "I miss you," he whispered to it.

Stranger: Sherlock cleared his throat to let his brother know he was still there, and stood to start the search of a clean shirt and jacket.

You: Mycroft put the picture carefully into the pocket of his suit jacket then got up to go through his morning routine. After leaving the bathroom, dressed and clean, he put his jacket on, one hand going to the picture in his pocket. "You ready?" he asked, turning to Sherlock.

Stranger: "Just about. I would be if someone didn't hog the bathroom," Sherlock snarled, going into the room and turning on the water to begin to wash his face.

You: Mycroft just shook his head and checked his phone for any new information. He found a text from Anthea to check his email. He did so and found more information on Srechko Hunt. "Sherlock, Anthea found one of the snipers!" Mycroft called through the door.

Stranger: "Reth it tho meh?" Sherlock called, brushing his teeth quickly.

You: "Sherlock, you know how hard it is to understand you when you mumble," Mycroft grumbled. He understood what his brother was saying, though, and read, "Srechko was seen renting a flat in northern London. Unclear why he is so far away from Mrs. Hudson. Confirmed that she is his target, this is the same man who posed as a handyman. He's made no move towards Baker Street as of yet."

Stranger: Sherlock spit into the sink and rinsed, thinking, before answering, "Let's keep it that way." Sherlock threw the door open and marched over to his suitcase, throwing the last few items into it. "Any ideas on exact address?"

You: "Anthea did include an exact address," Mycroft nodded. "What are you thinking? Another home invasion gone wrong?"

Stranger: "Nah, we have to get off that pattern. It's going to become too obvious if anyone picks it up." Sherlock said, throwing his backpack over his shoulder. "We need a new plan, and lucky us, we have a few hours of plane ride to think of one."

You: "Breakfast first," Mycroft said, looking at his watch. It read 10 am. He finished packing his few items and hefted his suitcase while Sherlock did the same. They had breakfast in the hotel restaurant which brought the time to noon. "What do you want to do for a few hours?" Mycroft asked. "We don't really need to get to the airport until 2."

Stranger: Sherlock sighed and glanced at his watch. "Can we just go early?" Sherlock asked, cleaning his mouth with his napkin and leaning back in his chair. "I don't want to go last minute... Plus we can start planning in the gate."

You: "You won't be bored just sitting there?" Mycroft asked incredulously. "Fine." He paid for their meal and walked outside, hailing another cab. He could tell his brother was deep in thought about something, but Mycroft hesitated to pry. For once.

Stranger: Sherlock sat back in the cab, thoughts flooding him and bouncing around with no end. He opening his pack and mindlessly shifted through it, unsure of what he was really looking for.

You: "I don't think John's in there," Mycroft muttered quietly. He thought he had a pretty good idea of what Sherlock was thinking. And the sudden quilty-looking jerk made him think he was right.

Stranger: Sherlock stopped and zipped up the bag. He shot a momentary glance over at Mycroft angrily, then went to staring out the window.

You: "It's true," Mycroft continued. "I'm sorry. I know it hurts." They sat in silence for the rest of the ride, each thinking of their own losses. The cabby kept darting glances back at them, feeling the sadness rolling off the two men. "Airport," he finally announced.

Stranger: Sherlock shifted out of the seat and slammed the door shut, taking his suitcase and rolling it behind him, not bothering to wait for Mycroft till he reached the check in counter.

You: Mycroft followed behind, a little amused and a little sad at his brother's antics. They checked their luggage and made their way through security, both brothers frowning at the guards. They finally sat near their gate and stared out the windows.

Stranger: "Well, let's plan. No use in wasting time," Sherlock sighed, the hardness in his voice obvious.

You: "Well, I think the first thing we should do is study him," Mycroft said casually. "I don't want another mistake like Gary. And Srechko may lead us to Moran."

Stranger: "Agreed. We have to be careful with this one, if we get too close and get noticed, more then likely, Moran will be right up on us as well." Sherlock said, avoiding Mycroft's eyes and beginning to unconsciously shift through his bag again.

You: "So we make sure he's always out," Mycroft replied, watching Sherlock search through his bag again. "Your homeless network can help with that." He smiled gently at Sherlock, understanding the need to find something that was out of reach.

Stranger: "Yeah, I'll get them on it as soon as we land." Sherlock zipped up the pocket in his bag and opened the next one down. "We may have to join them to follow him, you know. No hotel, no real food, no showers; the whole nine yards. We can't risk being detected."

You: "I understand," Mycroft said, a slight sinking feeling in his stomach. He really missed the luxury of his home and the Diogenes Club. "So what do we plan to do to get rid of him?"

Stranger: Sherlock bothered his lip as he thought, his searching growing more frantic. "No clue... We can always pull the hotel card back out and place that on the table."

You: "As a diversion?" Mycroft asked, watching curiously as Sherlock pawed through his bag. "What are you looking for?" Mycroft finally snapped.

Stranger: Sherlock ignored the question and kept up the search. "As a trap," He said at length. "We have to drag them away and kill them somewhere with no one in sight or earshot, remember?"

You: "But the hotel in Vancouver?" Mycroft continued. "How does that help? He'd have to get on a plane from London and go there. Unless you just want him to leave the flat."

Stranger: "There are hotels in London..." Sherlock growled. He sighed and paused in his search, once again closing the bag. "I don't know, okay? Why don't you come up with a plan here?"

You: Mycroft eyed Sherlock, surprised at the younger man's outburst. He must be feeling very stressed, Mycroft thought to himself. "How about this? We kill him by injecting air into a vein and causing an air embolism. Then we create tracks in his arms and leave drug paraphernalia around the room. The police will assume he OD'd."

Stranger: "Yeah... Okay... Whatever you think." Sherlock sighed. He ran a hand through his hair and let his bag fall to the floor.

You: "What's wrong?" Mycroft asked. "You seem completely unlike yourself."

Stranger: "Nothing. Let's focus on what's at hand, shall we?" Sherlock said, pushing the question away.

You: "I'm trying to," Mycroft chided him. "But you seem a million miles away. So, out with it. Why do you keep searching through your bag?"

Stranger: "Distraction?" Sherlock said, making it sound more like a question than an actual answer.

You: "Not buying it," Mycroft said. "You've searched that bag and searched it all over again, more frantically each time. What are you trying to get your mind off of?"

Stranger: "Dreams from last night..." Sherlock sighed, running a tired hand over his eyes.

You: Understanding flashed across Mycroft's face as he awkwardly patted Sherlock's shoulder. "I see," he said neutrally. "I'm sure everything will work out for you."

Stranger: Sherlock snorted. "Yeah right... No matter how much I beg, John will never take me. I wouldn't even take me..." Sherlock shook his head. The overhead called their plane and Sherlock stood, wanting the conversation to end, he walked away.

You: Mycroft followed slowly, not having any carry-on luggage. He felt the same about the situation, wondering how anything about it could be fixed. Or if John and Greg had already fixed things to their own liking.

Stranger: The flight dragged out longer then it should have. Sherlock tried to sleep, only to be shocked awake by a vivid dream of John, screaming at him about leaving, not taking him back and slamming the door in his face, or kissing Lestrade over and over again, doing everything Sherlock wished he could do to John.

You: "You all right?" Mycroft asked quietly, his arm jostled as Sherlock bolted upright. He had been staring out the window sadly, watching the water of the Atlantic flow past underneath them.

Stranger: "Fine," Sherlock growled, turning his head and shutting his eyes again, ignoring the pain that was clawing at his heart.

You: "What were you dreaming?" Mycroft pressed him. Feelings weren't really his area, caring wasn't an advantage, but even he could see this was eating at Sherlock. And he still felt close to him, thanks to their recent adventures in Vancouver.

Stranger: "I keep hearing John yelling at me, slamming the door in my face... I see him kissing Lestrade and... It all makes me feel like nothing..." Sherlock shut his eyes tighter as the pain twisted.

You: "I'm sorry, Sherlock," Mycroft told him, patting him gently on the shoulder. "It will take time, but I'm sure you can fix this. We already know where the second sniper is. Moran is just a matter of time."

Stranger: "In a way... I'm more scared of facing John then hunting down the last two snipers..." Sherlock chuckled sadly.

You: "John matters to you," Mycroft said quietly. "Those snipers don't. And you have no idea how John is going to react. No matter the exact details, you know what's going to happen when you meet those snipers."

Stranger: "I guess you're right... I just want it all to work out, not just for me..." He smiled sadly at Mycroft.

You: "Thanks," Mycroft choked out, his throat suddenly closing. "Though if it doesn't, if he doesn't take me back, you'll still have John. I want you to be happy, little brother. It's all I've ever wanted."

Stranger: "And if John doesn't take me back..." Sherlock took a deep breath. "...and somehow stays with Lestrade... I want him happy... but I won't be able to handle it..."

You: "You always have the option of leaving London," Mycroft reminded him. "I'm sure there are other cities with interesting crimes that could keep you from being bored."

Stranger: "But who knows how long that could occupy my mind until the pain of the loss of John creeps up on me again?" Sherlock said, shifting in his seat.

You: "Then you find something else," Mycroft said, sympathy in his voice. "You find another obsession and add that to chasing criminals. You could even work your way into controlling an entire country's government behind the scenes like I do."

Stranger: "Paperwork and sitting? Doing nothing but getting fatter by the day? No thanks..." Sherlock shook his head. "John is the only other 'obsession' I want."

You: "Then do everything in your power to get him back," Mycroft said logically. "John loves you and he knows it. All you have to do is convince him he belongs with you."

Stranger: "Harder done than said." Sherlock muttered, closing his eyes again and leaning back, his head tilted slightly towards Mycroft.

You: "And when have you ever let that get in the way of something you wanted?" Mycroft chuckled. "Remember the dissection kits you charmed Mummy into buying for you?"

Stranger: "It's easier to trick people into giving money and items than themselves... You know that."

You: "Perhaps," Mycroft agreed. "But John had already chosen you before you left. He followed you around with no thought for himself. He enjoyed it."

Stranger: "I guess..." Sherlock licked his lip, the sun brightening the darkness behind his shut lids.

You: "He'll come back to you," Mycroft continued softly. "How can he not? You're everything to him. Greg is... comfort. And care that he desperately needs right now."

Stranger: "I hate feelings," Sherlock growled, crossing his arms across his chest. "They're pointless but to hurt..."

You: "And this is why I've always tried to tell you that caring is a disadvantage. But in this case, I think I was wrong," Mycroft mused. "John made you a better person, Sherlock."

Stranger: "And Greg?" Sherlock asked, opening his eyes and looking at Mycroft in a squint against the light.

You: "What about him?" Mycroft asked, looking away from Sherlock. While talking his brother through an emotional crisis he could handle, Sherlock talking him through one wasn't something he really wanted to experience. Even if it did help in the end.

Stranger: "What made you start caring for him? Why did you let your weakness show to him?" Sherlock asked at length, choosing his words carefully.

You: "I'd liked him since he stood up to me," Mycroft admitted, after a long silence. "I called him to my office not long after he first met you. Wanted to make sure this DI was competent. And he basically told me to sit down and shut up and he was going to do things his way. Then I saw him watching over John and everything crumbled. I had to get to know him better."

Stranger: "Watching over John?" Sherlock asked slowly, holding back a yawn that threatened to be pulled from his throat.

You: "Yeah, when he accidentally OD'd," Mycroft explained. "Greg looked so tired and careworn, I just felt like I had to take care of him. I badgered him into going to lunch and we hit it off."

Stranger: "So you just let your walls... fall away like that?" Sherlock asked slowly.

You: "Not as quickly as that," Mycroft chuckled. "Greg started hammering away at them the first time we met by being himself. And every time I met him after that, a little more broke. Until I got him to go to lunch with me."

Stranger: "I'm glad you made a move at last, than..." Sherlock smiled, the overhead announcing the plane would be landing soon and to pack up any devices they had been using. "At least you had a while of happiness..."

You: "Yes," Mycroft smiled sadly, staring out the window at the lights of London. "And I'm hoping the memories will be enough."

Stranger: "As soon as we land..." Sherlock said, sitting up a little more. "I'm going to talk to him..."

You: "Greg? I don't think he'll be willing to listen," Mycroft sighed. "But good luck." He smiled at the plane came in to land, the wheels bumping against the concrete. He would never admit it to Sherlock, but he loved flying. Especially the turbulence.

Stranger: Sherlock exited the plane and quickly made it down to baggage claim. "Listen," He said in a rushed whisper. "Take the bags and go to Molly's flat. I'm going to hunt down Lestrade and -force- his to listen if I have to. I'll meet you back at Molly's." Sherlock pulled his bag off the belt and waited for Mycroft to get his.

You: "Thank you," Mycroft told him, surprise lacing his voice. "Why is this so important to you?" Mycroft grabbed his bag as it rolled around and followed Sherlock outside to hail a cab.

Stranger: "If you did the same thing I did to you, to me with John... Well, I would want you to do this... I guess John is making me..." He rolled the word around his mouth. "-Feel-" He said with distaste.

You: "Like I said, a better man," Mycroft said lightly. "You never considered the consequences of your actions before." A cab pulled up next to them and Mycroft placed his and Sherlock's bags in the trunk. He impulsively hugged Sherlock before stepping back and into the cab. "See you at Molly's," Mycroft said before the cab pulled away.

Stranger: Sherlock watched the cab round the corner before pulling out his phone and typing to Lestrade. Need to talk. Case stuff. -SH

You: Why? Thought he had all the help you guys needed from me? - GL

Stranger: We need to go over a few things. He won't be there. -SH

You: Fine. Where? - GL

Stranger: Sherlock thought for a moment, thinking back to the sniper he had killed to save Lestrade. Too much time had passed for the police to still be searching it, but not enough to have rented it out yet. He typed in the address to Lestrade and closed his phone, hailing a cab and giving the directions.

You: Lestrade glared at his phone before tucking it into his pocket. He'd been spending the day in his flat, enjoying a rare day off. He changed quickly and went downstairs to find a cab. Once at the address, he stalked up to the door and knocked smartly on it.

Stranger: Sherlock opened it after checking it was Lestrade, and rushed him in. He shut and locked the door behind them with four different locks, making it so Lestrade couldn't easily get out. The only way out now would have been the window, followed by a fifty foot jump. Sherlock turned to Lestrade.

You: "What the hell, Sherlock?" Lestrade asked angrily, stepping into Sherlock's personal space. "Why are we here?"

Stranger: "I told you were need to talk." Sherlock growled, not stepping away from the door. He looked down his nose at Lestrade. "And that's what I intend to do."

You: "About what?" Lestrade shot back, glaring at the arrogant man before him. He broke their staring contest and starting pacing the apartment, glancing around curiously. "And where are we and why?"

Stranger: "Your sniper's old flat. Doesn't matter though. Listen, I lied about Mycroft..." The words came quickly, hoping to catch Lestrade's attention.

You: "What?" Lestrade said, his mind clicking through each part of Sherlock's sentence. -His- sniper? And it doesn't matter? Then Mycroft crashed into Lestrade's mind and all he could do was repeat, "What?"

Stranger: "Sit down would you?" Sherlock nodded to the chairs. "It would make everything loads easier."

You: "Easier?" Lestrade choked. He stumbled to the chair and sat down heavily. He scrubbed a hand over his face and looked up at Sherlock. "Fine. Talk."

Stranger: Sherlock sat down in the chair between Lestrade and the door. "Listen, when I told you about Mycroft cheating before... I was lying... I caused the whole thing. Everything happened because I planned it that way. Mycroft sleeping with the others, the way his girlfriend suddenly set the rules... When she got hit by that car..." Sherlock swallowed. "I was 16 and protective... I did things I shouldn't have done. I killed her by pushing her in front of that car. Nothing had anything to do with Mycroft, it was all a mind game that I was controlling. Mycroft did nothing I didn't want him to..." Sherlock stopped, looking at Lestrade.

You: All the DI could do was stare at Sherlock, seeing earnestness and fear in his face. "Jesus, Sherlock!" Lestrade exploded. "You know there's no statute of limitations for murder and you just confessed to me! You just confessed to screwing up your brother's life and killing a girl for a fucking mind game! What the hell am I supposed to do with this?"

Stranger: "I didn't do this for a mind game, Lestrade! I did this because I felt I needed to... protect him... She was treating him like he didn't matter and I wasn't going to stand by and watch that." Sherlock shifted in his seat. "Understand where I was coming from. I was 16, he was my older brother, the only family I really had... the only family that really cared for me... Think of how I felt when I found out there was someone fucking with his feelings."

You: "I can understand that, I really can," Lestrade sighed. "But really? Manipulating him and her like that? Shoving her in front of a car? Ethically, I can't let this go. But as your friend, God help me, I want to."

Stranger: "Do whatever, I don't really care at this point..." Sherlock pushed the possible punishments away. "But I still need to save John and Mrs. Hudson. As long as John's sniper is out there, neither you nor him are safe. Arrest me if you must, but wait until it's safe to do so, if not for John or Mrs. Hudson or yourself, then for Mycroft and myself. Watching you all fall would kill us too."

You: "You are a bloody bastard, you know that?" Lestrade snapped. He ran a hand through his hair, thinking of all the possible endings to this if he arrested Sherlock or didn't. The thought of John finally decided him. He stood and fixed Sherlock with a pointed, angry gaze. "This never happened," Lestrade told him. "I didn't hear you confess to murder. Therefore, I don't need to arrest you."

Stranger: "Thanks." Sherlock said half heartedly. "But I'm not done..."

You: "Do I need to sit down for this again?" Lestrade asked sarcastically, pacing the room again.

Stranger: "It would be nice." Sherlock answered calmly, watching Lestrade to make sure he didn't go for the door.

You: Rolling his eyes, Lestrade sat again and waved at Sherlock to continue. He had a feeling he was going to need several drinks after this.

Stranger: Sherlock sighed deeply. "Mycroft never really cheated... As I said, it was all because of me and my mind game to protect him... You have no idea how much he needs you. How much he really loves you." Sherlock paused, waiting for a reaction.

You: Speechless, Lestrade only stared at Sherlock. Mycroft still loved him? Actually did care for him? "And what am I supposed to do with this information?" he asked, struggling for a disinterested tone.

Stranger: "Take him back?" Sherlock asked, watching Lestrade start to roll his eyes, he added quickly. "We were in Canada only a day before, hunting, what we thought was another sniper. The only thing that kept him doing the impossible was the thought of saving you. He was cuddling a picture of you unconsciously in his sleep. He walked across a ledge five stories up and fell. He grabbed a ledge just in time and the only thing that gave him the strength to reach for my hand was the thought of seeing you again. He wore clothes he wouldn't be caught dead wearing only because I told him you would think they looked good on him." Sherlock stopped and took a breath, panting slightly.

You: "Sherlock, what am I supposed to do?" Lestrade asked again, ignoring the clench in his chest at the thought of Mycroft falling from a fifth floor perch. "What about John? I've told him I love him and that I'm not going anywhere." Lestrade's thoughts slipped to Mycroft, the perfect few weeks they had together and he felt tears burn his eyes.

Stranger: "I don't know..." Sherlock shook his head slowly. "But please, stop giving Mycroft the cold shoulder... Text him or something. He's dying without you... He's trying to march on, but you can tell how broken he really is."

You: "I am too," Lestrade whispered. "That's why I went to John in the first place. I was hoping... maybe we could comfort each other. And it was a bit of spite as well, if I'm being completely honest. But I truly do care for him. What happens if I leave him for Mycroft? How can I do that to him?"

Stranger: "Maybe you can't... But you need to talk to Mycroft..." Sherlock fell quiet for a moment, thinking. "As soon as I come back to him, which I hope will be soon, do you think he would let you go to come to me, if he knew how you felt about Mycroft still?"

You: Lestrade thought for a moment, remembering John's pained admission from a few days ago. "Yes," he said decisively. "He loves you, more than anything. If there was the slightest hint you were alive, he'd come running."

Stranger: Sherlock smiled slightly, not being able to help it. "Maybe you should keep John for a while then... Keep him happy and... alive. I'm scared of something happening to him. He doesn't seem to want to kill himself does he?"

You: Lestrade hesitated, not knowing how to explain it. "At the moment, no," he finally said. "But he's admitted to me that he feels like he just wants to give up. Like nothing matters anymore. And how can you ask me to stay with him and try to talk to Mycroft? I can't and won't do that to either of them."

Stranger: "I'm not talking long, loving conversations into the night... Just... General stuff..." Sherlock shrugged. "I'm worried about Mycroft..."

You: "Why?" Lestrade asked bluntly. "When I first met him, I asked around about him. You know what people call him? The Iceman. What do you have to worry about?"

Stranger: "Don't you think people would say the same about me? Do you know what I would do to keep John safe? Do you know how much I love and care about him, and break each time I think he's hurt no matter how small?"

You: "Yeah, I think I see it," Lestrade admitted. "You know there was a pool going around the office for when you two would get together. We all saw it. I did a pretty good job of alienating Mycroft. But I'll try to talk to him."

Stranger: "Thank you..." Sherlock smiled slightly. "So who bet 'Sherlock would die and Lestrade and John would hook up'?" Sherlock smiled a little more.

You: Lestrade laughed, a dry choking sound. "No one," he said, smiling sadly. "Though I bet it would be after a year. Guess I was wrong."

Stranger: "Guess you were," Sherlock chuckled. "I wish you weren't though."

You: "That surprises me," Lestrade said. "Thought the work was all. No time or care for relationships."

Stranger: "That changed... you know, with John." Sherlock let a smile caress the words.

You: "You really do love him, don't you?" Lestrade asked, sighing. He ran a hand through his hair again, feeling petty about starting something with John. Much as they both mutually enjoyed it.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded, the smile widening. "Always have..."

You: "Then why in all hells did you wait?" Lestrade burst out. "If you love him, why didn't you act on it?"

Stranger: "I- I didn't know how!" Sherlock faltered. "I've never felt like this... for anyone before..."

You: "You could have asked for help," Lestrade said kindly, marvelling that he was pushing like this. "I would have been willing to help you. With the customary ribbing, of course."

Stranger: "Ribbing?" Sherlock questioned, raising an eyebrow.

You: "Well, I'd have to poke a little fun at you," Lestrade laughed. "Wouldn't be mates otherwise. It's what they do."

Stranger: "Okay then..." Sherlock shook his head. "I didn't know who to go to. Again, never felt like this for anyone. I was scared if I went to someone, John would find out the wrong way and it would... scare him away..."

You: "Oh, Sherlock, I wouldn't have told him," Lestrade said. He moved to stand next to Sherlock, patting him on the arm. "I might have been a bit thick at first about it, but I would have seen how important it was to you. You can always ask for help, you know."

Stranger: "Thanks. I'm asking for help now, actually. With keeping John and Mycroft both, at least, semi-happy. I hate seeing either of them broken. I'm worried one of them may do something stupid and... kill themselves..."

You: Lestrade sighed and paced the room again. It was a habit he'd picked up when he was still a rookie. The movement always helped him work through cases. "Not asking much, are you?" he asked sardonically. "I care for both of them. You're asking the almost-impossible."

Stranger: "Almost-impossible." Sherlock repeated, standing. "Not the totally-impossible."

You: "I'm being extremely optimistic," Lestrade snapped. "I still love Mycroft. If I start patching things between us, I'm going to want to be with him again. And leaving John alone again? He may very well do something drastic."

Stranger: "Look, if you care about John like I think you do, you'll do this. I need Mycroft's help to save him, and if Mycroft is all love-sick, heart-broken like I've been with John, he won't be much help. He's been helping me through my weak moments, if his wall breaks, John may as well be dead..."

You: "Damn it," Lestrade swore, without any heat. "That's playing both of them. It wouldn't be fair of me to stay with John when I have every intention of getting back with Mycroft if we can fix this. It's not fair to any of us. And I won't hurt John like I would if and when he found out the truth. There has to be another way."

Stranger: "Can you just fix things to a point? Keep it to friends for a little while?" Sherlock begged, finding solutions.

You: He turned to Sherlock, surprised to hear the pleading tone of voice in the usually arrogant detective's voice. He could see naked pain on Sherlock's face and finally relented. "All I can say is I will try," Lestrade told him. "And I will do my damnedest to make sure John doesn't try to kill himself."

Stranger: "Thank you." Sherlock smiled sadly. "You don't have to face Mycroft yet, just... text him once in a while."

You: "It may be a little while before I can do that," Lestrade warned him. "I'm still pissed off at the whole thing."

Stranger: "Well... be pissed at me, not him..." Sherlock bothered his bottom lip. "It was nothing he could have done to change what had happened."

You: "Yeah, I get that," Lestrade muttered. "You and your crazy obsession with controlling people. Always having to be the smartest in the room. You and your brother both."

Stranger: "I thought I was doing more good than harm." Sherlock shrugged. "Again, 16."

You: "Glad you grew out of that phase," Lestrade said sardonically. "Would hate to see you now like that. So what do we need to do? What do you need my help with about the snipers?"

Stranger: "Just, please, keep feeding us information. Honestly, we have Mrs. Hudson's sniper tracked to the address of his flat. We know who's tracing John, but we don't know where he is..."

You: "You have a name?" Lestrade asked, snapping into the role of DI. "I can run it through all the databases I can get into. The faster we find him the faster you can try to explain all this to John."

Stranger: "Yes, we have the name. We have a small amount of information, but it's all with Mycroft. I'll have him forward you the email, if that helps?"

You: "Yes, any information would be good," Lestrade said, thinking over who owed him favors. "What are you planning on doing about the sniper you currently know the whereabouts of?" Then he thought about it. "Wait, don't tell me," he amended. "Plausible deniability."

Stranger: "Right then, I'll have Mycroft send the information over. Everything good now?" Sherlock asked slowly, bothering his bottom lip.

You: "Not everything, not yet," Lestrade disagreed. "But eventually? Yes, I think we'll get there."

Stranger: "Well, I'm glad we got it started then... I have to get back to Mycroft. Please, text me with updates on John... I'm worried about him..."

You: Lestrade nodded and smiled again. This time, the gesture was more genuine, more like the old relationship he had with Sherlock. "This is going to be bloody difficult," he muttered to himself, walking out of the flat with Sherlock.

Stranger: "You don't know the half of it till you go through what Mycroft and I went through..." Sherlock chuckled at Lestrade's comment. "Thanks again for doing this."

You: "What exactly did you guys go through?" Lestrade asked curiously. "I mean, you told me the bare bones of what happened with Mycroft and the ledge. Care to elaborate?"

Stranger: "Leaving out... details..." Sherlock looked at Lestrade knowingly. "Mycroft is scared of heights, we walked around three walls of a building five stories up with him forcing oxygen the whole time, entered the snipers flat... There was a bit of a... Disagreement, ending with me in the hospital, not able to breathe. I was poisoned by we-don't-know-who -in- the hospital, ending with us finding out that the sniper we got... out of the way... wasn't really a sniper but someone calling the shots." Sherlock sighed slowly. "Plus I have to put up with Mycroft's 'I don't do leg work' thing." Sherlock smiled jokingly.

You: "He always did like to hang back in the shadows," Lestrade laughed. "Though, when he feels it warrants it, he can take control of a situation extremely well." He smiled fondly as he remembered their first lunch together. "So, obviously the poison didn't kill you. What was it and what happened?"

Stranger: "We don't really know... All I know is that it cause internal bleeding and I almost did die..." Sherlock said, going back to his thoughts.

You: "I'm sorry, Sherlock," Lestrade said, shocked. "I'm happy you're still here though. What are you planning to do now? Anything you need for this sniper?"

Stranger: "We have him traced down... We should be heading up there tomorrow to... uh... cut him off..."

You: "All right," Lestrade answered agreeably. They were standing on the sidewalk now, watching the cars pass by. "If you need anything, text me." He lifted a hand to stop a taxi and looked at Sherlock as it pulled to a stop. "I mean it," Lestrade said.

Stranger: "I will, thanks." Sherlock promised. With that, he watched the cab pull away and hailed his own. He directed it to Molly's flat.

\---------------------------------------------------

You: Lestrade wanted to see John again, wanted to make sure that choosing to go back to Mycroft if they worked this out was what he wanted to do. He directed the driver to go to Baker Street and sat back. When he got there, he pushed a handful of notes at the driver and hurried up the stairs to John's flat. The silence unnerved him and he opened the door.

Stranger: Lestrade walked into the flat, scanning for John but not seeing him anywhere. His heart stopped, knowing John never went "out" anymore. He quickly started up the stairs to John's room. He wasn't in there. Lestrade felt the lump in his throat grow as he busted down Sherlock's old room door to find John on the bed, blood coating the sheets.

You: " 'Lo, Greg," John said tiredly as Lestrade rushed into the room. He felt oddly light and dizzy. The doctor in him said it was the bloodloss. The rest of him couldn't give a damn.

Stranger: "What the... Hell have you done, John?!" Lestrade snapped, turning John's arms over to see long cuts along them. His eyes started to water.

You: "Explained in a note," John breathed, the room swimming now. He turned a watery smile on Lestrade and continued, "Sorry." With that, he closed his eyes and laid his head back down.

Stranger: "No, no no, come on John. Stay with me!" Lestrade dialed 999 on his phone and called for help. As they waited, Lestrade pocketed the note that sat on a table next to Sherlock's old bed, then took John's hand. "You can't leave me, John... Come on... I love you... You have to stay, I love you... You promised..." Lestrade broke down as the door flew open and people surrounded Lestrade and John, whisking John away. "You promised..."

You: John dimly felt the pressure on his arms, stemming the blood still flowing from his cuts. He felt the IV when they inserted it into his foot rather than an arm. He tried to struggle but lost the strength when they pumped some drug through the IV.

Stranger: Lestrade quickly followed them to the hospital, his eyes watering as he forced them away the best he could. Five minutes in and he was already failing Sherlock and Mycroft...

You: The last thing John knew before he blacked out completely was hearing a doctor above him shouting for blood and a surgical room. He heard Lestrade crying quietly and had the time to think, 'I'm sorry,' before he lost consciousness.

Stranger: Lestrade paced the waiting room as John was taken into the emergency room. His phone beeped indicating a message and he pulled it out, struggling to see the text that Mycroft had sent him.

You: What happened with Sherlock? He told me he met with you. Said I should text. - MH

Stranger: Can we talk about this later? -GL

You: Of course. Is something wrong? - MH

Stranger: It's John... -GL

You: What about him? - MH

Stranger: He tried to kill himself again. -GL

You: What? You said tried. He's still alive? - MH

Stranger: As far as I know... He's back in surgery. -GL

You: Oh my. I'm sorry, Greg. Listen, don't tell Sherlock about this just yet. He's barely hanging on as it is. - MH

Stranger: He was fine when we talked... -GL

You: Oh? Might I ask what you were talking about? - MH

Stranger: You, mostly. -GL

You: Really? What about me? - MH

Stranger: Sherlock told me what you guys went through over in Canada... How you pushed yourself to walk across that ledge and fell, how the thought of me gave you enough strength to get back up. Mycroft, I love you... But I have to watch John right now. I understand everything now. -GL

You: The ledge wasn't his secret to tell. But I am glad that he told you what happened. And I do love you too. And John does need you right now. I see that. - MH

Stranger: We'll talk later. I don't want to text you while I'm with John. As much as I want to be with you, John needs me more then you do... Just hold on for me, okay? -GL

You: Always, Greg. Stay safe and keep John sane. Goodbye. - MH

Stranger: Bye, Love. -GL Lestrade sent the text and blushed deeply, realizing what he was doing.

You: Mycroft looked at the last text and grinned foolishly. Maybe Sherlock was right. Maybe there was a chance for this to all work out. He saved the text with the rest of them, little bits of Greg that he could hold onto.

Stranger: Lestrade turned to the doors as a doctor entered and came over to him. "You Dr. Watson's friend?" He asked, looking at his records. Lestrade nodded.

You: "Is he alive?" the DI asked immediately, dreading the answer. He couldn't read the doctor at all, only seeing tiredness.

Stranger: "We did all we could..." The doctor started as Lestrade's heart dropped. "He lost a lot of blood. He's alive, but only just. We have to monitor him carefully for a while for any chance of his survival."

You: "What are his chances?" Lestrade asked bluntly. He needed the facts, only straight answers, though each word hit him like a blow. And if he felt this way, how would Sherlock take it?

Stranger: "Not too good... I'd say about 43%. It's a long shot, but everyone is working feverishly. We'll do all we can."

You: "Is there... anything I can do?" Lestrade said, his voice cracking finally. His composure was slowly cracking and all he could think was he wanted to hear Mycroft's voice. And immediately felt horrible that it wasn't John he wanted to hear.

Stranger: "Only if you or someone you know has his blood type..." The doctor said slowly. "Not many people do..."

You: "What is John's blood type?" he asked curiously. He wondered if he was the same.

Stranger: ""It's the rarest of all of them." The doctor started slowly. "It's called A2B."

You: "What? What do you mean A2?" Lestrade asked, confused. His heart sank though. His blood type was B.

Stranger: "A2B, sir." The doctor corrected. "You don't know someone with that type do you? It's very rare..."

You: "I don't but I know someone who might," Lestrade said musingly. "Can you give me a moment?" He pulled out his phone and typed out a quick text to Mycroft.

Stranger: Mycroft called Lestrade back, just needing to hear his voice. "Hello?" Lestrade asked slowly.

You: "Hello, Greg," Mycroft said, struggling for a casual tone of voice. "What did you need? I'll help any way I can."

Stranger: "Great... Do you know anyone with the blood type... uh... A2B?" He asked, looking at the doctor to make sure he said it right. "It's the rarest blood type of all and John needs it badly..."

You: "Sherlock," Mycroft said immediately. "He has that blood type. He studied blood when he was 14 or so. Was an insufferable ass when he realized how rare his type was."

Stranger: "Can you get him down here, soon? John needs the blood or else he's going to..." Lestrade swallowed. "Not going to make it..."

You: "I'll call him right after I hang up with you," Mycroft promised. "I know he'll be there as soon as possible."

Stranger: "Tell him John's out cold. He won't recognize him." Lestrade swallowed hard again. "I'll talk to you when you get here?"

You: "If... you want me to come with," Mycroft said slowly, hesitation dripping from every word.

Stranger: "Could you... Please?" Lestrade asked, nerves catching up and his voice cracking.

You: "Yes, I can be there," Mycroft said, heart pounding against his ribs. "See you as soon as possible, Greg."

Stranger: "B-bye..." Lestrade hung up and turned to the doctor. "We... We have someone."

You: "Excellent," the doctor said. "Have the nurse page Dr. Adams when they get here. Sooner is better."

Stranger: Lestrade paced the room after the doctor left, waiting for Mycroft and Sherlock. Mycroft was the first to arrive and Lestrade just stopped short of falling into his arms.

You: Mycroft sent Lestrade a soft look, sad that he had stopped himself from hugging him. Sherlock walked in after and Lestrade said quickly, "John needs a transfusion. Go to the nurse's station and have them page Dr. Adams."

Stranger: Lestrade watched Sherlock nearly sprint down the hallway to the nurse's station. He turned back to Mycroft, feeling stupid about the tears. "H-hi..."

You: "Hello, Greg," Mycroft repeated and mentally kicked himself. Surely he could come up with something else to say. "Are you all right?" he asked.

Stranger: Lestrade started to nod, then stopped. He slowly shook his head and felt himself sway.

You: Mycroft caught the DI before he fell, seeing how the stress and fear had finally caught up with him. He walked carefully to the chairs in the waiting room and gently placed Lestrade in one. He took a seat next to him and waited.

Stranger: Lestrade, without thinking, hid his face into Mycroft's shoulder, letting the tears dampen the cloth. "I'm sorry..." He said into the fabric.

You: "It's all right, love," Mycroft said tenderly. He placed one arm over Lestrade's shoulders and let the man sob into his shoulder. It was a step, one he was glad they had taken, though the manner hurt.

Stranger: "I couldn't stop him... I was too late... It's my fault..." Lestrade moaned quietly.

You: "You couldn't have known," Mycroft soothed him. "Molly and I thought John was doing better. He was happy with you."

Stranger: "I guess he's not..." Lestrade sniffed and sat up, feeling stupid.

You: "What is it?" Mycroft asked, curious about the sudden stiffness in Lestrade.

Stranger: "Maybe this is all a mistake... Me and John... I mean... If I leave him, who's going to stop him from killing himself? I just don't know anymore..."

You: "If you two derived comfort from each other, care about each other, how was it a mistake?" Mycroft asked, ignoring the flare of hurt in his chest. Greg was important now. "And do you know why he tried this time? Did he say anything?"

Stranger: "He left this note.." He slowly handed the note to Mycroft, scared to open it himself. "Can you read it out loud?"

You: Mycroft nodded and opened the note. He skimmed it quickly before reading it and had to hold back tears. "Greg, if you're the one who finds me, I am so sorry. I've realized that I do truly care about you but I don't love you as you deserve. I'm always going to be looking for Sherlock. I used your company to try to make me forget about him and it didn't work. I enjoyed our time together but I don't believe we are meant to be together. I hope you can be happy and I'm sorry to leave you like this. Please don't consider this to be your fault. You've done nothing but be kind to me and care for me when my world ended. Goodbye, Greg and I do care about you deeply."

Stranger: Lestrade made a forced sound and covered his mouth with his hand, new tears forming. "Damn it..." Lestrade cried, looking away from Mycroft, not wanting him to see him like this.

You: Mycroft folded the note slowly and placed it on the chair next to him. He folded Lestrade into his arms, holding him awkwardly over the chair arms. "It's all right, Greg," Mycroft whispered to him. "You can let it go."

Stranger: Lestrade felt another wave hit him and heard another forced croak come from his lips. He doubled over in shame.

You: Mycroft held him, continuing to whisper soothingly into his ear. He could feel Greg shaking and heaving in his arms and wished he knew the right words to say.

\---------------------------------------------

Stranger: Sherlock was rushed by two nurses back to the room John was in. His heart froze as he saw John and was seated across from him, forced to look right at him. They started hooking the two of them together, Sherlock watching John sadly.

You: John felt movement around him and his soldier's instincts forced him a little closer to lucidity and consciousness. He felt a sting in his arm and then warmth flowed down his arm.

Stranger: Sherlock only slightly winced as the needle was inserted into his arm. He watched as his blood rushed to John's body. He want so badly to reach out and take John's hand, but he couldn't reach. "Don't worry, John..." Sherlock whispered gently.

You: John thought he heard a familiar baritone, a voice he'd been aching to hear again for months. "Wha.... Sh'lk?" John muttered, his lips only slightly following his commands.

Stranger: Sherlock sighed, knowing how big of a risk this was. The nurses had left the room to watch the monitors in the hallway. "I'm here, John..."

You: "Miss... yoo," John mumbled, fighting as hard as he could to leave the dizzying darkness he was trapped in.

Stranger: "I need to tell you something, John." Sherlock whispered carefully.

You: "Sherlock," John said, more clearly than before. "You died. 'M I dead?"

Stranger: Sherlock chuckled sadly, "No, you're not. And you're not going to. Now listen to me, okay, John. This is important."

You: "Tried to join you," John muttered, his head tossing on the pillow. "Wanted to follow you. Why are you haunting me?"

Stranger: "John, listen to me, please... I need to tell you this.. And I can't until you quiet down and relax..." Sherlock soothed.

You: "K," John said, the muscles of his face relaxing. He'd always done what Sherlock said when he was alive. Why would that change with his ghost?

Stranger: "John, don't ever forget this... I love you, okay? I always have, since I first saw you... I love you... I love you... I love you..." Sherlock couldn't say it enough.

You: "Love you, Sh'lk," John slurred, falling deeper into the shadows. His strength was ebbing and sleep was quickly overtaking him. "Waited too long. Love you."

Stranger: "Feel better, my love..." Sherlock whispered as John drifted away. "You'll be mine soon enough..."

You: John fell into sleep, incredibly comforted. He didn't question the voice he'd heard, happy to have just heard it.

Stranger: Sherlock heard the soft beeping in the hallway and watched as a nurse walked in, starting to unhook Sherlock. "Will he be okay?" He asked as the needle was retrieved.

You: "He should be," the nurse replied. "He has a far better chance now after the transfusion. It's just lucky that someone was found with such a rare blood type."

Stranger: "Thank you for everything. Please, take good care of my friend..." Sherlock said, standing.

You: "You're welcome, dear," the nurse replied kindly. "Aren't you staying until he wakes up? If he's a friend, I'm sure he'd be glad to see you."

Stranger: "I wish I could..." Sherlock said, looking over at John, his eyes sweeping over him. "But I have to fly to a very important meeting in three hours. I can't stay..." Sherlock lied slowly.

You: "All right, dear," the nurse said, finishing disconnecting all the leads. "If you'd just check in at the nurse's station and then you'll be free to leave."

Stranger: "Thank you." With one last long, wanting sweep over John, Sherlock exited the room to leave the nurses to their work. He passed through the waiting room on the way to the nurse station and saw Mycroft holding a sobbing Lestrade.

You: Mycroft looked up, hearing Sherlock's familiar step. Greg didn't, still sobbing and fighting with his emotions. He gazed at Sherlock, a question in his eyes.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded, telling Mycroft silently everything should be fine. He then smiled down at Lestrade in Mycroft's arms. He shot Mycroft a 'you guys again?' look, before turning and heading to the nurse's station.

You: Mycroft nodded back and shrugged slightly at the look Sherlock sent him. He was happy that Sherlock wasn't making him leave Greg at the moment and watched his younger brother harry the nurse at the station. "Greg, John got the transfusion," Mycroft whispered.

Stranger: Lestrade lifted his head slightly, still not meeting Mycroft's eyes in embarrassment. "A-and?"

You: "Well, Sherlock seems to think he'll be fine," Mycroft told him, heartened as Lestrade raised his head. "It's all right now, love, it really is."

Stranger: "I'm sorry... I'm crying helplessly into your arms and were not even... Together... Anymore..." Lestrade's voice threatened to crack again.

You: "I'm still here for you," Mycroft said, tightening his arm over Greg's shoulders. "Anytime you need me. And I'm so sorry for what happened before."

Stranger: "I'm sorry too... And thanks..." Lestrade said, forcing a smile. He gently pecked Mycroft on the cheek.

You: Mycroft's heart soared, his analytical mind not even scoffing at the poetic phrase. He smiled at Greg and said, "Feeling better now?"

Stranger: "A little..." Lestrade said, brushing away a few spare tears that lined his cheeks.

You: "Good," Mycroft said quietly. He eased back and lifted his arm off of Greg's shoulders. He didn't want to push the man, though he hoped with all his being that eventually he may get him back.

Stranger: "Mycroft?" Lestrade asked slowly, his voice barely coming back to him. He bothered his bottom lip a little. "I'm... Craving lunch... Will you... Join me?"

You: "I'd love to," Mycroft murmured, his heart pounding a rapid tattoo against his ribs. "Are you sure you want me to go with you?"

Stranger: "I'd want no one else..." Lestrade blushed slightly at the flirting, no matter how small it was. "We should tell Sherlock..."

You: "My dear brother has already left," Mycroft said, nodding his head at the empty nurse's station. He stood and held out a hand to Greg. "Where would you like to go?"

Stranger: "Do you like pizza? My treat... I know it's a little.... Low class... For you but um-"

You: "Pizza is fine," Mycroft assured him. "I actually love pizza, it's a guilty pleasure."

Stranger: "Sherlock get after you on it?" Lestrade said, poking Mycroft's belly, hoping he wasn't bringing out the jokes too soon.

You: "That and my fondness for sweets," Mycroft joked, smiling. "Though he isn't one to talk. He loves Chinese food."

Stranger: "True... But you see how small that man is and you-" Lestrade cut off, biting his mouth shut hard.

You: "It's all right, Greg," Mycroft said quietly. "I know I'm nowhere near as thin as Sherlock. It's something I've gotten used to."

Stranger: "I'm not one to talk though..." Lestrade said, running his hand over his stomach as they started out of the hospital. "I think you're smaller than me." He smiled.

You: "You're perfect," Mycroft argued without thinking. He snapped his mouth closed and looked away, pretending to be trying to find a cab.

Stranger: Lestrade blushed hard, his heart pounding. "Y-You're perfect..." Lestrade replied, stepping closer to Mycroft's back.

You: Mycroft squeezed his eyes closed, hope making him feel lightheaded. "What are you doing, Greg?" Mycroft asked. "Because I can see two ways this could go and I truly, deeply want it to go a specific way."

Stranger: "Mycroft... I..." Lestrade paused, stepping closer, his heart pounding. He went around to face Mycroft, getting up on his toes and balling Mycroft's suit in his fists around Mycroft's neck. He looked deeply into Mycroft's eyes, lost in the moment. "I... Kiss me..." Lestrade whispered, not thinking anymore.

You: "Are. You. Sure?" Mycroft asked, enunciating each word slowly. He had to be sure, had to make sure Greg was sure. He wouldn't be able to handle another break like they'd had before.

Stranger: "I'm... Please... Kiss me..." Lestrade said, their bodies pressed together. Lestrade licked his lips slightly, waiting. His heart was pounding so hard he was sure Mycroft could feel it through his ribs.

You: Mycroft could feel his heart pounding hard, the counterpoint of Greg's heart against his chest. He lowered his head slowly, locking his eyes on Greg's. He pressed his lips to his in a chaste kiss that lasted for a few moments before pulling back.

Stranger: "Please... Don't stop now..." Lestrade begged, feeling childish but not caring. He wanted Mycroft's lips.

You: "Greg, love," Mycroft whispered before leaning down and capturing his lips again. He pressed harder, all the feelings he'd held back pouring into the kiss.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned lightly, letting his tongue press against Mycroft's lips. He missed this. John was great, nothing could deny how great of a lover he was, but with Mycroft it just felt... Right.

You: Scattered catcalls slowly penetrated the haze of Greg that surrounded Mycroft and he pulled back. Sighing with regret, he ran a gentle finger down Greg's cheek. "Perhaps the street isn't the best place for this," he said, smiling.

Stranger: "We can order a pizza to my place..." Lestrade whispered gently, not releasing Mycroft's collar as his eyes swept Mycroft's face.

You: "That sounds... perfect," Mycroft said, hope in every word. "Do you want to go there now?"

Stranger: "Sounds good..." Lestrade whispered, pecking Mycroft's cheek.

You: Mycroft smiled widely at Greg and turned slightly to actually hail a cab this time. One sleek, black car pulled up before them and Anthea got out of the back. "Hello, sir," she said neutrally. "Your brother texted me about your location. The car is yours." She stepped back, texting on her phone.

Stranger: Mycroft looked at her, shocked. "How did he get your number? I don't remember giving it to him..."

You: Anthea shrugged and looked up. "I have no idea how he does most of what he manages," she said. "But he does. So there you go."

Stranger: Lestrade stepped back and let go of Mycroft, following him into the back. As soon as he closed the door, an arm snaked around his waist.

You: "I've missed you, so much," Mycroft whispered in his ear, tightening his arm around his waist. "Thank you."

Stranger: "I've missed you too... For what?" Lestrade asked, leaning into Mycroft's touch as the car began to move.

You: "For listening to Sherlock's explanation," Mycroft explained. "And giving me a second chance when you were so angry with me."

Stranger: "Truth is, Mycroft... When I left... I figured out I couldn't live without you... I was dead... A hallow shell. John was a good boyfriend, don't get me wrong. Sherlock will be very lucky... But you're the only one for me..." Lestrade whispered, nosing Mycroft's neck.

You: "And you for me," Mycroft admitted, love and warmth curling in his belly. He rested his head on Greg's shoulder, breathing in his scent. "I love you, Greg."

Stranger: "I love you too, Mycroft." Lestrade purred. "We have to learn to talk things out though... We can't just deny our pasts..."

You: "No, we can't," Mycroft agreed. "And you have no idea how sorry I am that I didn't drag that memory up earlier. You shouldn't have found out what happened like that."

Stranger: "It's... It's fine..." Lestrade shook it off. "We need to tell each other everything, no matter how painful, and just get it out of the way. We need to trust each other..."

You: "And do you trust me again?" Mycroft asked, his voice hoarse. He wasn't sure he wanted to hear the answer but the question popped out before he could stop it.

Stranger: "I'm very close to it, yes." Lestrade nosed Mycroft's nose, smiling. "Do you trust me?"

You: "Yes," Mycroft nodded, pressing his forehead against Greg's. "I never stopped trusting you."

Stranger: "I never stopped loving you..." Lestrade smiled.

You: "And to repeat you once again," Mycroft said, grinning. "I never stopped either." He looked out the window and saw that they were almost at Greg's flat.

Stranger: "Over pizza, we should start the long 'trust' talk." Lestrade sighed, looking out the window as well.

You: The car stopped outside Greg's flat and Mycroft unwrapped his arm from around him sadly. They both got out of the car and walked up to the stoop. "Pizza tends to make things easier," Mycroft chuckled.

Stranger: "True." Lestrade laughed. "What do you like on yours?"

You: "Pepperoni and lots of veggies," Mycroft said. "I think the Americans have a term for it. "Garbage pizza.""

Stranger: "No way..." Lestrade laughed. "Thats my favorite!"

You: "Really?" Mycroft asked, happily. "What do you know? At least we won't argue over toppings."

Stranger: "Even if we did, there's always the half 'n half." Lestrade chuckled and kissed Mycroft deeply. "I'll go order in."

You: Mycroft nodded agreeably and walked inside with Greg. He settled down on the couch and waited while Greg ordered the pizza, finding a menu in his kitchen.

Stranger: Lestrade hung up the phone and came back in, looking puzzled. "There's no way he could have..." He sighed.

You: "Who could have what?" Mycroft asked suspiciously, though he had a sneaking suspicion who Greg was talking about.

Stranger: "Sherlock... They said the pizza was already paid for and on it's way... Garbage pizza... Just what we wanted. How does he do that?!"

You: "He hoped that you would forgive me almost as much as I did," Mycroft explained. "He felt guilty about breaking us apart and losing John. This is his version of an apology."

Stranger: "It's very sweet..." Lestrade said, sitting down in Mycroft's open arms and cuddling against Mycroft's chest.

You: "I'm surprised he took the time to do so," Mycroft said frankly. "John really has changed him for the better." He hugged Greg tight to him, revelling in the feel and scent of the man. "So that talk you wanted to have?" he prompted.

Stranger: "Let's wait for the pizza to get here. They said it should arrive the next five minutes. Until then... I could really go for a kiss." Lestrade smiled, nosing Mycroft again.

You: "Gladly, love," Mycroft said before lowering his head to Greg's. He kissed him slowly, patiently. He relearned the taste of him, the feel of his breath against his skin.

Stranger: "I... I've ... Needed... This... For a long... Time..." Lestrade growled between breaths of fresh air. He deepened the kiss and nipped at Mycroft's lip.

You: Mycroft groaned in reply as Greg nipped him, his mouth parting on a sigh. He felt Greg's tongue dart into his mouth and melted into the kiss

Stranger: Lestrade pulled back as there was a knock on the door. He kissed Mycroft's nose as he stood, whispering I love you's to him gently.

You: Mycroft caught his breath as Greg moved to the door. He sat back on the couch and smiled. Finally, something seemed to be going right. Listening to the sound of Greg's voice, he couldn't help but feel happy.

Stranger: Lestrade came back with the pizza in his hand. He set it down on the table and sat back down on the couch, leaning against the arm across from Mycroft.

You: Watching Greg out of the corner of his eye, Mycroft leaned forward to pick up a slice of pizza. He took a bite, sighing at the gooey, cheesy goodness and then looked at Greg fully. "Something wrong?" he asked.

Stranger: "Nothing." Lestrade smiled, watching Mycroft enjoy his slice of pizza. He grabbed a slice of his own and sat back in his seat. "So... Who wants to start?" Lestrade asked, swallowing a small bit.

You: "Why don't you?" Mycroft offered. "Seems only fair to me. You must have a lot you want to discuss."

Stranger: Lestrade thought for a moment. "Well... What should we start with? Past relationships?"

You: "What do you want to know?" Mycroft asked. "Feel free to ask anything."

Stranger: "Okay... What about... The first time you really slept with a guy?" Lestrade asked, blushing slightly. He took another bite of his slice of pizza.

You: Mycroft laughed warmly, touched by the look on Greg's face. "That would be uni as well. Lots of things happened there. My first year I was partnered with this adorable boy for a project," Mycroft said. "We hit it off and one night, we were walking and he tripped. I caught him and we just stared at each other. Something clicked and when we got back to my room, we slept together."

Stranger: "Wow... So what happened... To him? Between you guys?" Lestrade asked, setting his pizza on a napkin.

You: "We were together for the rest of the semester," Mycroft explained. "But after the holiday, we found that we didn't fit as well as we used to. We grew apart and parted as friends."

Stranger: "Oh... I'm sorry..." Lestrade said at length.

You: Don't be," Mycroft said, patting his arm. "I don't regret anything about that experience. I'm thankful for it. What about you? Ever done anything with another man?"

Stranger: "Not really..." Lestrade said, chewing his pizza. "This is the first I've ever done anything with another man."

You: "Not even considered it?" Mycroft asked playfully, taking another bite of his pizza.

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled. "Never."

You: "Well, I'm flattered," Mycroft said, chuckling."What's so different about me?"

Stranger: Lestrade shrugged. "You're different then most people. With you, I just feel... like I can relax..."

You: "I'm glad you feel that way, Greg," Mycroft said quietly. He moved a little closer to him, hoping Greg wouldn't pull away. "What do you want to ask me next?"

Stranger: "How old were you when you had your first kiss?"

You: "I was 15," Mycroft replied. "It was actually a dare. I was drawn into the game by a friend and they wanted to tease me since I tended to be rather aloof. What about you?"

Stranger: "17... It was stupid. I was drunk at a party and she was too. We ended up sneaking away and kissing and touching and what not. I never talked to her again."

You: "Sounds like typical teenager stuff," Mycroft mused. "Why are you so embarrassed about it?"

Stranger: "It's a stupid way to get a first kiss... I was stupid..." Lestrade shook his head, laughing sadly. "What about you? Do you have questions?"

You: "Let's see," Mycroft said, tapping a finger on his knee. "How about a serious question. What drew you to your ex-wife?"

Stranger: "I don't know..." Lestrade muttered, running a hand through his hair. He sighed before messing up his hair a little and continuing. "My latest ex-wife... She was a friend since I was a kid. We met in around first grade. You know how it is. You have a long term friend, you go through a time you feel you have more than friendly feelings for them. You act on it, you think it's right, then, later, after you guys are deep in the relationship, you realize it's just not right and you completely screw up the friendship." Lestrade shrugged and sighed. "It's what happens."

You: "I'm sorry," Mycroft said, seeing the pain in Greg's eyes. "But I do understand. I've never had a close friend like that but I understand the feeling. So, your turn. What do you want to ask me?"

Stranger: "No, I believe it's still your turn. I asked two, you asked one. Come on, play fair." Lestrade smiled, poking Mycroft's arm and laughing.

You: Mycroft laughed and caught Greg's hand. He stroked his thumb idly over the back of his hand as he thought. "Your first date?" he asked, tilting his head at Greg.

Stranger: "I was twenty. I had talked up this girl at the shop. We went on a date to a high end dinner, she excused herself to the bathroom... never came back..." Lestrade shook his head.

You: "I can't imagine walking out on a date with you," Mycroft said honestly, still rubbing a thumb over Greg's hand. "That must have been horrible."

Stranger: "It hurt... but you know, it was a long line of heartbreak... and that was the smallest of them..."

You: Mycroft swallowed at the pain in Greg's voice. He knew the man had had a hard life but hearing it spelled out like this was terrible. And that he'd added to that burden of pain? He let go of Greg's hand suddenly, feeling disgusted with himself. "Your turn," Mycroft said, forcing his voice to be light.

Stranger: Lestrade's hand tried to follow Mycroft's, protesting the loss of contact. He sighed, disappointed, and thought. "What about your first date?"

You: "I was 18," Mycroft explained. "The boy at uni. After the first night we slept together, we went out to lunch the next day. A hole-in-the-wall Polish place that isn't there anymore."

Stranger: "Sound nice, though." Lestrade forced a smile, trying to move an inch closer to Mycroft.

You: "It was, we talked for hours," Mycroft said, smiling at the memory. "I felt closer to him than anyone else in my life."

Stranger: Lestrade raised an eyebrow and moved back slightly. "Oh..."

You: "What's the matter?" Mycroft asked, confused at Greg's withdrawal. He ran his last sentence through his head again and frowned. "Not right now," he hastened to say. "I meant I felt closer to him than anyone else at the time."

Stranger: "Okay." Lestrade nodded, thinking.

You: Mycroft took Greg's hand again, needing to touch him. Needing a connection with him. "What's running through that mind of yours?" he asked quietly.

Stranger: "Just... I don't know... I just get so jealous at the slightest mention of past loves of yours..." Lestrade chuckled slowly. "It's silly..."

You: "It's adorable," Mycroft chuckled. "Believe me, I have throttled my jealousy furiously every time you mention something about your past relationships." He slid closer to Greg, pressing his leg against the other man's.

Stranger: Lestrade pecked Mycroft on the cheek. "I'm glad you don't get mad easily, though, like I tend to..."

You: Mycroft turned his head and pressed a chaste kiss onto Greg's lips. "I get mad," he admitted. "I've just learned to control it and not allow anger to how on my face."

Stranger: Lestrade frowned. "Really?"

You: "Really," Mycroft nodded. "In my work, showing your real emotions can be a disaster. Though you seem... worried or disappointed. Why?"

Stranger: "Well... I don't like the idea of not knowing how you feel... What if I do something to anger you and I don't know? What if I do something wrong or I hurt you in some way..." Lestrade squeezed Mycroft's hand. "I don't want to hurt you... Not again.."

You: Mycroft wrapped an arm over Greg's shoulders and pulled him close. He placed a kiss on his forehead and whispered, "I won't mask my emotions with you. And you don't have to worry about hurting me. If anything, I should worry about hurting you. Look at how much I already have."

Stranger: "But you always make things right in the end..." Lestrade whispered, kissing Mycroft's cheek.

You: "I can only hope to do so," Mycroft replied quietly. "And this time, I wasn't able to do so. Sherlock had to."

Stranger: "But you didn't really ruin it in the first place. Sherlock did, we were just a part of his stupid mind games."

You: "I had a hand in it," Mycroft argued. "I still lied, albeit unintentionally. And I swore to you I'd never do that."

Stranger: "Mycroft, stop." Lestrade said, placing his forehead to Mycroft's and looking him in the eyes. "It's not. Your fault."

You: "Isn't it partly?" Mycroft countered. He sighed and closed his eyes. Breathing in the scent of Greg and pizza, he relaxed against the man. He was glad beyond measure to finally have even this much back.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled away and crossed his arms across his chest, leaning back against the arm of the couch, staring at Mycroft. "It's not. Your fault." He growled. "So just stop thinking it was."

You: Nodding slowly, Mycroft leaned forward to grab another slice of pizza. He ate it silently and looked back at Greg. "So whose fault would it be?" he asked quietly. "I'm quite willing to take the blame for it though you are adverse to that."

Stranger: "I told you, it was Sherlock's fault." Lestrade said. He stood up and walked around the couch. "It's his fault and his fault only."

You: "I cave," Mycroft said, raising his hands. "It was my prat brother's fault. Though I am glad he talked to you. And I'm thrilled that you listened and decided to talk to me again."

Stranger: "That's more like it." Lestrade smiled, leaning over the couch and wrapping his arms around Mycroft from behind. "It's never your fault. Don't ever think it is."

You: Mycroft lifted his hands to grip Greg's arms and hold him tight. "I love you," Mycroft whispered, his eyes closing. "Have I mentioned that lately?"

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled darkly and nipped at Mycroft's ear. "I don't think you have." He joked, running his nails into Mycroft's soft skin on his shoulders.

You: "Well, I'll say it as often as you like," Mycroft murmured, head falling to the side. "I love you Greg. So very much."

Stranger: "I love you too, babe." Lestrade smiled, kissing Mycroft's neck and licking the bulges of his muscles in his neck.

You: His breath sped up as Greg moved down his neck and Mycroft couldn't help the small groan that escaped his lips. He ran his hands over Greg's arms, tracing circles into the skin.

Stranger: Continuing to kiss and nip at Mycroft's neck, Lestrade ran his hands over his chest till he found the first button on his shirt. He slowly undid it.

You: "Greg," Mycroft breathed as Greg ran his fingers over the revealed skin under his button. His hands dropped to the couch bonelessly, allowing the DI access to do whatever he wanted.

Stranger: He moved down to the next button, undoing that one just as slowly. Then the next, and the next. The fabric fell open and Lestrade ran his hands over the exposed skin, leaving the cloth to drape over his shoulders. He kissed Mycroft's cheek and nipped at the soft skin under his jaw. "I love you..."

You: "God, I love you," Mycroft murmured, arching in the soft touches on his skin. He could feel his mind hazing over as Greg touched and kissed him, want crashing down on him.

Stranger: "What do you want me to do to you?" Lestrade growled, his voice full of lust.

You: "Anything. Everything," Mycroft said, voice hoarse. "Whatever you want, Greg."

Stranger: Lestrade ran his hand over Mycroft's shoulders and he rounded the couch and sat in Mycroft's lap. "Everything?" He asked, smiling and biting his own lip.

You: "Yes," Mycroft murmured, wrapping his arms around Greg's waist and pulling him close. "I want you."

Stranger: Lestrade got on his knees above Mycroft and pulled his legs onto the couch so he was mostly laying down. He sat down on Mycroft's hips and ground a little, cupping Mycroft's face in his hands and kissing him deeply.

You: Mycroft groaned into the kiss, his hips moving up of their own accord. He placed his hands on Greg's hips, holding him gently. He rubbed circles on his hips and pressed hard against Greg's mouth.

Stranger: "Shirt?" Lestrade growled, biting Mycroft's bottom lip.

You: "Yours or mine?" Mycroft gasped, his tongue flicking out and swiping over Greg's lips.

Stranger: "Mine. Yours is off, silly." Lestrade chuckled.

You: "Only mostly," Mycroft laughed. He moved his hands up Greg's waist, catching the hem of his shirt. He slid the shirt up slowly, his palms caressing the skin of Greg's stomach and chest. He raised it up and over Greg's head then dropped it on the floor.

Stranger: Lestrade slid the fabric draped over Mycroft's shoulders and down his arms. He ran his nails behind the fabric, nipping Mycroft's chest.

You: Breathing heavily, Mycroft wrapped his arms around Greg's waist and ran his nails up his back. He could feel Greg shiver above him and grinned. "You are wonderful," Mycroft murmured.

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled deeply again. "That's you, love." He took one of Mycroft's nipples in his mouth the twisted it, running his tongue over it as he did so.

You: Mycroft moaned loudly, his hands fisting against Greg's back. He had missed this, so very much. Hadn't even allowed himself to think about being intimate with Greg again. "Please don't stop," he breathed, opening his eyes to meet Greg's.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled and kissed Mycroft deeply, keeping it slow. "I won't." He whispered.

You: "God, I missed you," Mycroft whispered against his lips. "You have no idea how much." He rubbed his hands over Greg's back again, tilting his head to nip at the soft skin under his jaw.

Stranger: "I missed you too. I've needed this... For a long time..."

You: Mycroft continued pressing kisses to Greg's neck, biting gently. He could feel the other man's breath speed up and couldn't stop the slow smirk that flowed across his face. He slid his hands down to cup Greg's hips again, pressing him down onto his own hips.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled and went down to undo the button on Mycroft's pants. "Should we?" He whispered after letting the jeans fall apart.

You: "I want you to," Mycroft admitted. "But only if you want to. I'm not going to push you."

Stranger: "Would it be.. pushing things too fast?" Lestrade whispered, kissing Mycroft's jaw.

You: "Not for me," Mycroft said confidently. "But I know you. If you have to ask, you're having doubts. Maybe we should stop for now."

Stranger: "I'm sorry..." Lestrade muttered into Mycroft's neck, burying his face into the skin.

You: "Nothing to be sorry for, love," Mycroft said tenderly, moving his hands up to Greg's shoulders and hugging him. "I don't want you to have any regrets."

Stranger: "I shouldn't..." Lestrade muttered. "We've done it before... I'm just scared... I mean, if we move too fast and things get... weird... And I lose you... I wouldn't be able to live..."

You: "Shh, Greg," Mycroft murmured. "You don't have to be sorry or scared. I'm going to do everything in my power to make sure we don't lose each other again. And it's natural to feel nervous about this, after what happened." He shifted them so that they were lying on their sides on the couch. Mycroft tucked Greg's head on his shoulder and ran a hand soothingly down his side.

Stranger: "I'm going to do everything I can not to lose you either..." Lestrade smiled. "I love you too much..."

You: "I love you, too," Mycroft said, kissing his temple. He raised a hand to see his watch and noticed that it had gotten late during their talk. "How about we get some sleep?" he suggested.

Stranger: "That sounds good..." Lestrade yawned. "Can we sleep together?"

You: "I'd love that. You want to stay here?" Mycroft asked, chuckling a bit.

Stranger: "Well, it's a little late to go anywhere else." Lestrade laughed and kissed Mycroft before taking his hand in his and stood.

You: "Not what I meant," Mycroft said, rising and flicking a finger at Greg's shoulder. "I meant the couch. Though I'm assuming now you want to sleep in a bed."

Stranger: "Come on." Lestrade smiled. He tugged on Mycroft's arm playfully.

You: Mycroft followed, a grin dancing on his lips. He twined his fingers into Greg's and they walked to his bedroom.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled him down onto bed beside him and kissed him gently.

You: Mycroft wrapped around Greg, pulling him close and sank into their kiss. He pressed into Greg's mouth and ran his tongue over the roof of his mouth.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned softly and opened his mouth a little more. He pressed his own tongue up to Mycroft's and ran it against the underside of his slowly.

You: Mycroft groaned, the sound vibrating between their mouths. He sucked gently on Greg's tongue and twisted his tongue around it. One hand moved to cup Greg's cheek, needing the intimate touch.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled as he felt Mycroft sucking on his tongue. He relaxed slightly more into Mycroft's arms.

You: Mycroft broke their kiss and rested his forehead against Greg's. "I love you," he said again. "I hope you never get tired of hearing me say it because I don't think I can stop."

Stranger: "Never. I wish you'd say it more." Lestrade chuckled deeply, closing his eyes again.

You: "I love you," Mycroft whispered before closing his eyes. "Sleep well, love."

Stranger: "Night, my love." Lestrade smiled. "I'm so glad you're mine again."

You: "And you're mine," Mycroft said, not bothering to mask the satisfied gloat in his voice. He settled Greg's head against his chest over his heart and drifted off to sleep.

\----------------end chapter 9--------------------


	10. Chapter 10

You: Molly walked slowly up the steps to her flat, exhausted from her day at the morgue. Several bodies had come in from a fatal car crash and it had taxed even her jaded senses to complete the autopsies on them. She opened her door and saw Sherlock sitting on her couch, head in his hands. "Sherlock?" she asked, closing the door. "What's wrong?"

Stranger: "I'm worried about John..." Sherlock muttered, running his hand over his forehead and closing his eyes.

You: "Why?" Molly asked, hanging up her coat and walking into the kitchen for a much-needed cup of tea. "Did something happen? Or is this just your usual worry?"

Stranger: "He... tried to kill himself..." Sherlock sighed.

You: "What?" Molly squeaked, dropping her teacup. "He did what? How could he? Is he ok?"

Stranger: "He tried to kill himself... He slit his wrists and almost bled to death... I had to go to the hospital and give him blood..."

You: "Oh my gosh, Sherlock," Molly said, walking back into the living room and sitting next to him. "I'm so sorry. But, did he see you? He can't know you're alive yet."

Stranger: "He saw me... we... talked.. actually..."

You: Molly felt tears prickle her eyes and she smiled foolishly at Sherlock. "I'm happy you got to talk to him," she said. "What did you guys say? And what are you going to do about his sniper?"

Stranger: "He was too out of it to tell it was actually me... when he wakes up, it'll be easy enough to get Mycroft to talk him into the thought it was a dream." Sherlock sighed and paused for a moment. "I told him I loved him.."

You: Molly squealed quietly, happiness for them flooding her. "I'm happy for you," she said, hugging Sherlock. "Did he say it back? You know he loves you."

Stranger: "He did... He said it back. Slurred... but he said it back." Sherlock let a smile dance on his lips.

You: Molly grinned at him and hugged him again. "I can't say it enough. I'm happy for you. Both of you. But who found him? How did he get to the hospital?"

Stranger: "Lestrade found him. Thats all I know..." Sherlock said, shaking his head, the smile fading.

You: "Didn't you talk to Greg?" Molly asked. "I would have thought you'd interrogate him for every little detail after the transfusion."

Stranger: "He was kind of... busy..." Sherlock snorted.

You: "Busy?" Molly repeated, confused. "What do you mean busy?"

Stranger: "Crying.... in Mycroft's arms." Sherlock looked at Molly sideways, knowingly.

You: "They're back together?" Molly squealed again. "But, but what about that huge argument I wasn't really actually listening to that happened? I thought Greg hated him?"

Stranger: "It was all my fault... I sorted it out for them." Sherlock waved it away. "The important thing is they are together again. If I was correct, they went back to Lestrade's house for something called a 'garbage pizza'."

You: "Ok, well, I'm glad that's sorted," Molly said, a bit skeptically. "But what about John? What's going to happen to him now that he's alone again?"

Stranger: "I... Don't know..." Sherlock put his head back in his hand. "What if he tries to kill himself and actually... does..?"

You: "You want me to go to the hospital?" Molly asked, pushing away her own fatigue. "Be there when he wakes up?"

Stranger: "Would you? Please?" Sherlock asked, sitting back up and looking at her hopefully.

You: Molly sighed and patted Sherlock's shoulder again. "Of course," she said. "Give me some time to change and eat and I'll head out." She rose and headed back into the kitchen, grabbing the things she needed to make a sandwich.

Stranger: Sherlock followed her and hugged her from behind. "Thank you."

You: "You're welcome, Sherlock," Molly said, surprised at the hug. Sherlock didn't often touch people, though he had changed a lot since his fall.

Stranger: He hugged her tighter for a moment before letting go. She turned to face him and he paused before kissing her on the cheek. "This means a lot to me... so thank you... a lot..."

You: Molly melted at his tone, just like she always did, and smiled at him. "I know. And I'll take care of John. They'll probably want to keep him for at least 72 hours."

Stranger: "Please... Take good care of him.." Sherlock smiled sadly.

You: Molly nodded and ate quickly but neatly. When she was done, she walked into her bedroom to change. Once done, she donned her coat again, waved at Sherlock, and headed outside to drive back to the hospital.

Stranger: Sherlock waved goodbye to Molly and watched her leave, smiling to himself.

You: Molly made her way into the hospital, a horrible sense of deja vu overtaking her. She asked for John at the nearest nurse's station and was directed to his room. She saw him lying in the bed and had to stifle a small, sad cry.

Stranger: Molly entered the room, keeping her hand over her mouth. She sat down on the chair next to the bed and took John's hand gently.

You: John floated quietly in a soothing darkness but he felt that something was wrong. He felt the grip on his hand distantly and fought his way out of the black. His eyes wobbled open and he squinted to make out the person next to his bed. "Who?" he mumbled.

Stranger: "It's me... John, it's Molly..." Molly whispered softly, running a finger over the back of his hand.

You: "Mo... Molly?" John whispered, his eyes focusing on her worried face. "Thought I saw.... was Sherlock? No he couldn't have been. He's gone." John turned his face away, not wanting Molly to see his tears. It had all been a dream.

Stranger: "Oh... John..." Molly muttered. "Don't... don't cry.."

You: "Sorry," John muttered. His hand slowly raised and scrubbed over his face, eradicating the tears. Swallowing hard, John looked back at Molly, his soldier's bearing allowing him to hide what he was feeling. "What happened?"

Stranger: "You tell me." Molly said, turning over John's arm carefully to look at the cuts.

You: "I remember writing out the note and then laying down on Sherlock's bed," John said after thinking for a moment. "Then I used my army knife to cut my wrists. I vaguely remember someone yelling at me not to leave and pain. Then I thought I was talking to Sherlock, telling him I loved him. God, his voice was so real, Molly. I would have sworn he was here. But he couldn't have been."

Stranger: "No... he really couldn't have..." Molly muttered, running her finger along the skin that wasn't damaged. "But I'm sure... if he was alive... he would have said it right back to you, John."

You: "I hope so," John said, fighting back tears again. "But I guess I'll never know. Thank you for being here, Molly. It's nice not having to wake up to an empty room."

Stranger: "I know he would have..." Molly tried to smile.

You: John smiled at her, a small, sad smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Thanks," was all he said before closing his eyes and sighing. "So how long am I going to have to stay this time?"

Stranger: Molly sighed and pulled over John's chart. "Looks like... They want to keep you for a week... or more..." Molly read.

You: "That's going to be boring," John chuckled dryly. "I was hoping I'd be able to leave earlier than that. Apologize to Greg if he's the one who found me. I think he was."

Stranger: "He was..." Molly nodded sadly. "But um... He's back with Mycroft apparently."

You: "Good," John said, nodding. "He deserves to be happy. Have someone who loves him completely."

Stranger: "I thought you loved him..." Molly said slowly.

You: "I love him as a friend," John said slowly. "He was wonderful and it was good for a while. But I love Sherlock. That's it. And Greg shouldn't be with someone whose heart belongs to someone else. Someone who's gone."

Stranger: "I understand..." Molly placed a hand to John's cheek and stroked it softly. "I'm sure you'll find someone else though... Be able to move on... You don't have to keep trying to kill yourself.."

You: "Maybe," John said doubtfully. "Though I'm not going to try again. It didn't work this time and I don't want to put everyone through this again. You shouldn't have to put your lives on hold to watch me."

Stranger: "John... I don't mind... as long as you're alright in the end..." Molly said softly. Her heart was dropping with each word.

You: "Thanks, Molly," John said, catching her eyes again. "I'll be fine. You can head home if you want. I think I'm going to be falling asleep here again soon."

Stranger: "I'll stay a while. I promised..." She paused. "Lestrade." She finished quickly.

You: "How is he?" John asked. "He must have been a little traumatised finding me in Sherlock's room bleeding out."

Stranger: "He's...better." Molly nodded. "I'm sure Mycroft is calming him down."

You: John nodded and yawned widely. He looked blearily at Molly and said, "Yeah, think the meds are kicking in again. I'm glad he's better. Good night, Molly. You should go home and get some rest."

Stranger: "I'm staying till you're asleep. I don't trust you not to do something... regretful..." Molly said slowly.

You: John nodded tiredly, his eyes closing. He fell into a quiet lassitude, his muscles relaxing. The last thing he remembered hearing was clicking on a phone and then sleep claimed him.

Stranger: Molly pulled out her phone and typed out a message to Sherlock. He's asleep. -MH

You: Does he remember me being there? - SH

Stranger: Molly looked over John as he shifted awkwardly before going back to the text.

You: He thinks it was a dream. Doesn't believe you were actually there. - MH

Stranger: Well... that's good at least... -SH

You: Yes. And you don't have to worry about him and Greg. John apparently broke up with him in the note he wrote. Said he still loves you. - MH

Stranger: He does? I know he told me but.. that much? -SH

You: Hold on a second. I need to savor this next text for a moment. Not often I can say this. -MH. Molly types her next text and stares at it, giggling quietly.  
Yes, you idiot. He loves you more than anything. - MH

Stranger: If you were here, I'd be glaring at you angrily... -SH

You: And I'd still be giggling. You heard him tell you he loves you. When are you going to believe it? - MH

Stranger: When I can hold him again and know it's real... -SH

You: Don't make me cry again, Sherlock. I just finished that talking with John. He says he's not going to try to hurt himself anymore and that we don't have to worry about him. He's so self-sacrificing that it makes me worry. - MH

Stranger: He's going to try again. Don't let him fool you... He won't just give up... -SH

You: What can we do, though? He's not a baby and we can't treat him like one. - MH

Stranger: We can from a distance. -SH

You: This has to stop soon. Is there any way you can let him know you're alive? Just to ease his pain a little bit? - MH

Stranger: I told him I loved him... thats all I can do... Otherwise, he could be killed. You know that. -SH

You: You were talking about leaving a letter for him before. Think that's still feasible? - MH

Stranger: I think so... If you can still get him out of the flat? -SH

You: He's gonna be out of the flat for at least a week according to his chart. Now would be the perfect time. - MH

Stranger: And Mrs. Hudson? -SH

You: I can call her. Ask her to bring me something of John's. Maybe his laptop? - MH

Stranger: That sounds perfect. Give me 30 minutes to write something out? I know that's a long time... But I need it to be perfect... -SH

You: I understand. Let me know when you're done and I'll call Mrs. Hudson. - MH

Stranger: Thank you. -SH

You: Molly passed the time by surfing the internet on her phone. She loved her smartphone and it was one of her few luxuries. Another incoming text interrupted her perusal of the gossip news.

Stranger: It's done... I'm going to John's flat now... My heart hurts... -SH

You: I'm sorry. I don't think I'll ever be able to say it enough. But I'll call her. Good luck, Sherlock. - MH. Molly quickly dialed Mrs. Hudson's number and convinced her to bring John's laptop to the hospital. Then she texted Sherlock.  
All clear - MH

Stranger: Thanks. I'm about 5 away. -SH

You: Molly stood when Mrs. Hudson walked into the room, pasting a pleasant smile on her face. The dear woman looked at John with sadness and handed the laptop and charger over to Molly.

Stranger: Sherlock quickly picked the lock on the door and went up the stairs, taking them two at a time. He started to pick the flat's lock when he noticed it was unlocked. He opened it and went inside, looking around. He went over to the skull and noticed the dust around it. It hasn't been moved since he left by the amount of the dust. He picked up the skull and slipped the note under it, making sure it was obvious enough that John would see it, but easy enough that he could have missed it. He looked around the flat, his heart dropping. He slowly started up to John's room.

You: Molly talked with Mrs. Hudson for as long as she could, about John, about Sherlock, about the damn weather but finally she decided to get back to the flat. After Mrs. Hudson left, Molly texted Sherlock that she was on her way back.

Stranger: Sherlock walked into John's room and looked around. His eyes watered as he saw all of his own items scattered around the room. His phone beeped and he pulled it out.

You: You need to get out of there. She's coming back. I held her here as long as I could. - MH

Stranger: Thank you. Leaving in about a minute... -SH

You: Did you place the note? - MH

Stranger: Yes... Now I'm in his room. -SH

You: Why? John's never struck me as a knick-knack type of person. I doubt his room is full of keepsakes and things. - MH

Stranger: But it's -his- room... and it's full of... my things... -SH

You: He took your things? Sherlock he really does love you. And misses you. I'm tearing up now. - MH

Stranger: Yeah... He has my violin on a stand on the wall, he has pictures I didn't even know he took framed and all around here... He even took my special pillow... He knows I can't sleep without it... -SH

You: And now I'm full out crying. Are you absolutely sure that you have to stay away from him for this? - MH

Stranger: I have to... I can't risk him being killed... -SH

You: This is just so sad Sherlock. But you need to hurry. Mrs. Hudson is probably almost back to the flat. - MH

Stranger: I'm leaving now... Don't worry, just hailed a cab... -SH

You: John's sound asleep so I'm going to head back home. I'll stop by tomorrow during my breaks to make sure he's still ok. - MH

Stranger: Ok... I'll meet you back at the flat. I'm going to pick something up at the store first. So I'll probably get there when you do. -SH

You: All right. Would you please pick up some more tea while out? It's almost gone. - MH

Stranger: That's what I was going for... Do you want a specific kind? I'm actually going for a ... Special... Kind. -SH

You: Just plain black tea. And do I want to know what kind you're going for? - MH

Stranger: I'll explain later... I want to have it with you, if you don't mind... -SH

You: All... right, but this is making me very nervous. I'm about 20 minutes out. - MH

Stranger: There's nothing to be nervous about. It's special tea for a reason. Again, I'll explain when we sit down to have it. See you soon. -SH

You: Molly didn't bother to reply, just slid into her car and drove back to her flat. Traffic had died down so it didn't take the full 20 minutes she was expecting. She hung up her coat again and turned on the TV, waiting for Sherlock to get back.

Stranger: Sherlock entered the store and went straight to the tea. He grabbed Molly's black tea then scanned the shelves for the tea he was looking for. He found it and smiled as he pulled two boxes down. He ran over to the spice aisle and grabbed a small clear plastic bottle filled with bright green leaves. He smiled sadly as he paid for the items and rushed back to Molly's.

You: Molly started as her front door banged open. Sherlock stood there, face flushed and panting. "You all right?" Molly asked. "You didn't run all the way back here, did you?"

Stranger: "I... Did..." Sherlock panted, the sad smile still on his face. "No cab... Couldn't wait..."

You: "All right, so what is this special tea?" Molly asked, standing and heading into the kitchen. She was dying for a cup of tea.

Stranger: Sherlock rushed in the kitchen and started the kettle. "You go sit. I need to make this." Sherlock instructed.

You: Molly rolled her eyes at the peremptory tone but walked back out to the living room to stare mindlessly at the TV. She was really curious.

Stranger: Sherlock took a few of the leaves from the bottle and crushed them with the handle of a butter knife. He poured the water and made the tea, dropping the leaves in so five crushed leaves floated perfectly in each cup. He carried the tray out to the living room and set it down on the coffee table by the couch.

You: Molly sat up straight and stared at the tray Sherlock carried out. She could smell a strong herbal scent from the cups and it smelled divine. "What is it?" she asked.

Stranger: "Try some..." Sherlock smiled slightly, handing her a cup and watching her sip it. "It's lemon grass and mint tea. The leaves are crushed chocolate mint leaves, not too common of an herb. This tea was... John's favorite... He only made it for special events for the two of us. Five crushed leaves in each cup, not more, no less..." Sherlock sighed as he watched his own cup before taking a long, graceful sip from it.

You: Molly let the tea roll over her tongue, the tastes melding and mingling. It tasted as wonderful as it smelled and Molly happily took another sip. "Can I ask what he made it for?" she said curiously.

Stranger: "Birthdays, holidays, once he even made it when I was sick... It's just something he used to share with his family that he carried on to share with just me..." Sherlock smiled as tears burned his eyes. He took another long, slow sip.

You: "That's very sweet," Molly said before falling into silence. She sipped the tea, slowly emptying her cup. It warmed her and calmed her and seemed so very much like John.

Stranger: "I miss him..." Sherlock said slowly, finally letting the tears come forth. "It's going to be his birthday soon... He would have made this tea and we would have... Sat on the couch, drinking it and just... Small talking. He would open my gift to him when he was done... You know, something small and stupid because I couldn't find anything that suited him that wasn't too cheesy... He would have acted like he loved it and it was the sweetest thing in the world... Would have hugged me like he always did and set it on the table, then pour himself another thing of tea..." Sherlock brushed the tears away the beat he could, but they wouldn't stop.

You: Molly hugged him, fighting back tears again. Sherlock was one of the few people she actually regularly cried over lately. They sat in silence and the scent of lemongrass, comforting each other. "You'll get him back," Molly finally whispered. "Everything will work out. I promise, Sherlock."

Stranger: "Thank you..." Sherlock sniffed, hugging her back. He pulled away and looked down at his tea. "Should I get him something? You know, write him a card and all and give it to him when I can go back to him?"

You: "Do you think he'd want something like that?" Molly asked logically. "I think once he recovers, John is going to want to put this behind him."

Stranger: "True but... I don't want to ignore his birthday... Even if it is late..." Sherlock fingered the edge of the cup.

You: "Ah, I misunderstood you," Molly said. "I thought you meant about his stay in the hospital. He would probably like a card. Something to show that you were thinking of him when you were gone."

Stranger: "And what about a gift? Do you think a... A ring would be too much?" He asked nervously. "Is that too much of a... Meaning?"

You: "Depends on what kind of ring," Molly said, choking back her giggles. Sherlock was just adorable like this. "What are you wanting to say with it?"

Stranger: "Just... I love you... And I'm sorry..." Sherlock said sadly, bothering his bottom lip.

You: "Well, you probably want something simple then," Molly said. "What kind of jewelry does John wear? Silver, gold?"

Stranger: "Only those dog tag necklaces. Silver." Sherlock said, thinking back to when Sherlock first saw the tags. How John had blushed and shoved them back down his shirt. How cute he was when his face was bright red.

You: "Then you probably want a simple silver ring," Molly said. "Maybe engraved with Celtic knotwork. John's Welsh, isn't he?"

Stranger: "I believe so.. Yes." Sherlock nodded.

You: "Well then do that," Molly said logically. "It shows an interest in him and where he comes from."

Stranger: "That sounds like a good idea..." Sherlock nodded again, smiling. "Thank you... You're really helping a lot..."

You: "That's what friends are for," Molly smiled. "You know you can always come to me if you need help."

Stranger: "Thanks." Sherlock smiled at her. "If you don't mind... I'd like to make this tea on his birthday as well... Celebrate... You know?" Sherlock said, standing and picking up the cups.

You: "Of course, it was delicious," Molly said. "I wouldn't mind having it again. Though, now, it's late and I have an early shift tomorrow." She stands as well and impulsively hugs Sherlock again before walking into her room to change.

Stranger: Sherlock let the smile linger on his face as he cleaned the dishes. The smell of the tea wafted through the air. Sherlock shut his eyes and could almost picture John next to him, drinking the tea and smiling like no tomorrow. It was sad...

You: Lying in bed, Molly listened to the small sounds Sherlock was making die down as the man finished cleaning. She heard him walk downstairs to the basement and that was the last thing she knew before sleep claimed her.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: "What do you mean you have to leave??" Lestrade pouted as he sat on Mycroft's bed, watching him pack.

You: Mycroft packed the last of the clothes he had bought in Canada in the suitcase with a scowl and turned to look at Greg. "Sherlock and I have to be undercover to track this sniper," he explained. "Means living as if we were homeless. Hence putting all my worldly possessions in this ratty duffel bag."

Stranger: "But for how long?" Lestrade asked, pushing his bottom lip out. "I literally just got you back and now you have to go?!"

You: "I don't know," Mycroft said honestly, moving to fold Greg into his arms. "I'm hoping not very long. But once we take care of this sniper, I'll be back."

Stranger: "I don't want you to leave..." Lestrade said, leaning into Mycroft's grip. "What if you don't come back?"

You: "I'll be back," Mycroft said. "How can I not come back now that you are waiting for me?"

Stranger: "He's a sniper... He kills people, Mycroft. What if he kills you?" Lestrade balled Mycroft's shirt in his fist over his stomach.

You: "I know that," Mycroft said gently. "But I know what I'm doing most of the time. And I don't intend to get close enough to become a target. No one looks twice at the homeless."

Stranger: Lestrade sighed sadly. "I hope not..." He slid his hand just under Mycroft's shirt and rubbed his stomach. "I can't live without you..."

You: "Trust me, love," Mycroft said, resting his forehead on Greg's. "I won't let anything happen to me. And neither will Sherlock."

Stranger: "You better text me every night..." Lestrade said, running his fingers along the edge of Mycroft's pants

You: "Of course, though I will tell you if I can't for the next night," Mycroft promised. He kissed Greg's cheek, tightening his arms around his waist.

Stranger: "I'm going to miss you..." Lestrade whispered, leaning closer to Mycroft.

You: "I'm going to miss you too, love," Mycroft replied, one hand slipping down to Greg's waist and underneath the hem of his shirt. He rested his fingers on the flat expanse of Greg's stomach.

Stranger: Lestrade kissed him gently, his fingers running just under the band of Mycroft's pants.

You: "I still have some time before I have to leave," Mycroft said. "What were you thinking of doing this morning?" He stroked Greg's stomach and moved up to his chest, tracing the muscles underneath his skin.

Stranger: Without speaking, Lestrade slowly unbuttoned Mycroft's pants. He looked at him sadly with a hint of longing in his eyes.

You: Mycroft stepped back a bit to slide Greg's shirt up and over his head. He leaned forward to kiss him gently.

Stranger: "I don't want to go all the way..." Lestrade said slowly, pulling Mycroft's pants down and starting on the shirt. "But I want to touch you before you go..."

You: Mycroft smiled at him and stepped out of his pants. He raised his arms to help Greg take his shirt off. "You have no idea how much I want that," Mycroft murmured.

Stranger: Lestrade hooked his thumbs in the lining of Mycroft's boxers and slowly lowered them. He ran a finger around Mycroft's entrance teasingly, kissing Mycroft gently.

You: Mycroft groaned at the touch, his knees going weak beneath him. He tangled his hands in Greg's hair and pulled him up for a hard kiss.

Stranger: Lestrade slowly inserted his finger, teasing him at first by just barely putting his finger in, smiling at the noises Mycroft was making.

You: "Please, don't tease me like this," Mycroft begged, his legs folding beneath him. Greg followed him to the ground, never relinquishing his hold on Mycroft.

Stranger: "You alright?" Lestrade asked as he got down on his knees with Mycroft still in his arms. He pressed his finger in just a little deeper, but not all the way.

You: "Yeah, fine," Mycroft gasped, pressing back against Greg's hand. "Just been too long since you touched me like this."

Stranger: Lestrade smiled at how out of breath Mycroft was. "I guess it has been a while... How long, again?" Lestrade asked, pushing his finger in all the way and curling it.

You: "Ohhh, Greg," Mycroft groaned. His hips moved in a slow rhythm. "You're making me think right now? About 3 weeks, I think?"

Stranger: "You're right... Too long..." Lestrade smiled as he inserted another finger. He ran his other hand down to cup Mycroft's length.

You: Pumping into Greg's hand, Mycroft buried his head in the man's neck and sucked at his pulse point. His arms were wrapped tight around Greg's waist, holding him close.

Stranger: "I love how you're naked and in front of me while I'm still half dressed..." Lestrade breathed, palming Mycroft's length. "It's hot.."

You: "You're the... only one I trust to... do this with," Mycroft panted, breath ghosting hot over Greg's skin.

Stranger: Lestrade's breath caught in his throat and he quickly turned red. He slid a third finger in, then nosed Mycroft's face up to crash their lips together. He wrapped his whole hand around Mycroft's erection and started pumping it.

You: Mycroft yelped into Greg's mouth, feeling his tongue thrust into his mouth. He sucked it eagerly, wrapping his tongue around Greg's. His hips pumped faster, jerkier, and he could tell he wouldn't last much longer.

Stranger: "I can't... Can't do this..." Lestrade said, sliding his fingers out and letting go of Mycroft. He stood, but kept Mycroft down on his knees with a hand to his shoulder.

You: Mycroft opened his eyes, regretting the loss of contact with Greg. "What? Why?" he managed to choke out.

Stranger: Lestrade silently lowered his pants behind Mycroft, making sure he couldn't see. Without warning, he quickly bent down between Mycroft's legs and slid into him. He felt Mycroft jerk at the suddenness of it.

You: "Fuck, Greg!" Mycroft screamed, his hips jerking forward. He reached back and gripped Greg's hip tightly enough to bruise.

Stranger: "Scream my name, love." Lestrade cooed into his ear. "Scream it to the sky!" He pumped quickly, desperately, needing the friction.

You: Mycroft panted and screamed, his voice going hoarse. Pain and pleasure mingled to drive him crazy and he could barely hold himself up with the hand planted on the floor.

Stranger: Lestrade forced Mycroft to double over till his shoulders were against the floor. "I learned a little something about controll during those three weeks, love." Lestrade hummed into Mycroft's ear, pumping harder and taking Mycroft's length back into his hand.

You: "What... what did you... learn?" Mycroft gasped, pressing back as hard as he could into Greg. He wanted to feel him as deep as possible.

Stranger: "Seeing right now you're putty in my fingers right now, I'd say a lot." Lestrade chuckled, giving Mycroft a little bit of a hard squeeze to his length.

You: Mycroft screamed again, the sound wrenched from an already sore throat. His hips moved in a wide arc, trying to wring as much pleasure and friction out of this as he could. "Missed you... needed you," he muttered.

Stranger: "I've needed to feel you for a while, now." Lestrade muttered, his voice suddenly very deep.

You: "Glad you... did," Mycroft said. He felt Greg placing kissing along his shoulder blades and down his back. He arched into the touch, heat flashing through his whole body.

Stranger: "I'm close..." Lestrade growled into Mycroft's back.

You: "Me too," Mycroft groaned. "Can't hold back." His belly tightened and a spasm shook his entire body and he orgasmed. He covered Greg's hand with the warm, slick fluid.

Stranger: Lestrade followed close behind, riding out his orgasm in slow, long waves.

You: Mycroft collapsed to the floor, the cool wood feeling heavenly on his heated skin. He enjoyed the feel of Greg's weight on him and stayed where he was for several minutes.

Stranger: Lestrade slowly pulled out before collapsing on top of Mycroft. He chuckled darkly after a few moments of laying there.

You: "What?" Mycroft asked idly, turning his head to look back at Greg.

Stranger: "You're so perfect..." Lestrade cooed, smiling like an idiot.

You: "You keep making me repeat you," Mycroft said, smiling back. "You are as well. Just wonderful. God, I missed you."

Stranger: "I missed you too." Lestrade kissed the back of Mycroft's neck before sitting up. He giggled slightly as Mycroft sat up as well, his skin sticking slightly to the floor from his orgasm, leaving his stomach bright red.

You: "And yet another shower," Mycroft said jokingly, pulling Greg to him and kissing him. "Want to join me?"

Stranger: "Please." Lestrade smiled into the kiss. "That doesn't hurt, does it?" Lestrade asked, running his hand over the red patch.

You: "No, not really," Mycroft replied, catching Greg's hand and twining their fingers together. He got up carefully and pulled Greg into the bathroom.

Stranger: Lestrade followed Mycroft into the shower as he started the water. He took the soap and put some in his hands, reaching up to Mycroft's hair. "I love you hair... It's so... Soft..." Lestrade smiled, the bubbles overtaking his hands.

You: Holding still as Greg worked the shampoo into his hair, Mycroft sighed. He loved the feeling and couldn't help the satisfied rumble that started in his chest.

Stranger: Lestrade took the bar of soap and started working it over Mycroft's skin in soft, slow circles.

You: "I love you," Mycroft whispered, cupping the nape of Greg's neck and pulling him into a hungry kiss.

Stranger: Lestrade dropped the bar of soap at the sudden kiss. His hands found their way to Mycroft's hips and pulled him closer. "I love you... Too..." He managed between breaths.

You: Succeeding in distracting Greg, Mycroft grabbed another bar of soap and ran it gently over Greg's skin. He rubbed at every inch of Greg's skin, kissing him and licking at his lips.

Stranger: "God..." Lestrade muttered as Mycroft worked. "God..."

You: "Not quite but it's a nice compliment," Mycroft said, chuckling lightly. He maneuvered Greg until the other man was standing directly under the water and helped sluice the soap off him.

Stranger: Lestrade closed his eyes as the water rushed into them. He felt Mycroft's hands run the soap off him and sighed as the water was turned off. He opened his eyes as Mycroft wrapped him in a towel and pulled him close.

You: Pressing light kisses to Greg's lips, Mycroft ran his hands over Greg. He towelled him off gently, tracing with his fingers afterwards.

Stranger: Lestrade felt his knees go weak, his breath growing short and quick. Mycroft toweled him slowly down, getting closer to his crotch. He bit down on Mycroft's neck and brought the towel around him as well.

You: Mycroft growled quietly as Greg bit him, angling his head so more of his neck was accessible. "How do you know exactly what to do to me?" Mycroft asked wonderingly, melting into the warmth of body heat and towel.

Stranger: "You're easy to read," Lestrade growled, smiling. "You like this?" Lestrade ran his hands, covered by the towel, down Mycroft's back and stopping on his ass, cupping it playfully.

You: Mycroft gasped and grinned into Greg's eyes. "No one's ever said that I'm easy to read before," he said. "Usually just the opposite. And yes, I love that very much. Don't stop." He stepped closer to Greg, rubbing his hands in circles over the man's back.

Stranger: "Well, I can read you," Lestrade smiled. He reached up and kissed Mycroft's cheek, squeezing his butt as he did so.

You: "I'm glad you can," Mycroft said, tilting his head down to nibble at the skin over Greg's pulse. He slid his own hands down to cup Greg's hips and pull him tight against him.

Stranger: "When do you have to... leave?" Lestrade swallowed, nosing Mycroft's jaw.

You: "In... about an hour," Mycroft whispered. He gasped as Greg nuzzled deeper into his neck. Walking them back into Greg's room, Mycroft turned and pulled Greg down onto the bed with him.

Stranger: "I want to come with you..." Lestrade moaned into Mycroft's neck. He licked down Mycroft's muscles.

you: "You can't," Mycroft whispered, head thrown back. He loved Greg like this, the DI wanting nothing more than to touch and taste him. He returned the favor, licking and nibbling the DI's shoulder. "I don't want you in that kind of danger."

Stranger: "I don't want you in danger... It's my job... not yours. I'm more prepared for it, trained and whatnot. What if something happens to you?" Lestrade nipped Mycroft's jaw hard, then licked over the craters.

You: "It won't," Mycroft assured him. "But you are very recognizable. Even dressed as a homeless person, I think you would be recognized. No one can picture me out of my suits so they won't even think I would be." He caught Greg's lips and kissed him, sorrow blending with passion. He was truly going to miss Greg the whole time he was away.

Stranger: "Can I see you in those clothes before you leave, at least?" Lestrade teased, running his nails over Mycroft's lower stomach. "I want to see how my boyfriend will look while he's gone and away from me..."

You: Mycroft chuckled and kissed Greg on the nose. "If you really want to," he said teasingly. "I have to admit, some of the outfits aren't too bad."

Stranger: Lestrade ran his nails lower and smirked at Mycroft. "I do want to. And I'd love a … Picture together. I'm going to miss you too much. Plus, I heard you had pictures of me..."

You: "I have one picture of you," Mycroft said, standing from the bed. "It's a candid shot of you that one of the snipers took." He grabbed a few outfits out of his duffel and pulled one on. He turned and showed Greg the gray shirt with paint splatters and dark jeans.

Stranger: Lestrade got on his stomach, turned towards Mycroft, leaning on his hands. "You do look good," Lestrade purred. "Hot, even."

You: "Thank you," Mycroft said, grinning wryly at Greg. "It was difficult even trying these clothes on the first time. Sherlock had to almost bribe me by telling me you would enjoy seeing me in them."

Stranger: "I do..." Lestrade smiled, standing and going over to Mycroft, his eyes sweeping his body longingly. "I really enjoy seeing you in them... they are so much more... fitting to your figure."

You: "What? They are?" Mycroft asked, looking down at himself. He could see the need in Greg's eyes and didn't really see why. They were just ratty, paint-covered clothes. What was there to desire about them?

Stranger: Lestrade nodded and chuckled. "Look how tight they are... Your suits are normally slightly loose. Besides, you look cute kind of laid back and in relaxed clothing."

You: "Most of my suits were tailored for me when I had a little more weight," Mycroft said. "I didn't bother getting more because they still fit fairly well. You actually do like me dressed like this?"

Stranger: "I do." Lestrade cooed. "They squeeze you just right."

You: Mycroft flushed slightly at Greg's voice but smiled at him. "Care to demonstrate how?" he asked, waving at himself.

Stranger: Lestrade went behind Mycroft and took his hips. "The way the shirt outlines your perfect curves..." Lestrade ran his hands up Mycroft's body. He placed his chin on Mycroft's shoulder and nosed his neck. "You can really see your shoulders and your butt looks so cute." Lestrade purred.

You: "Cute?" Mycroft snorted, turning in Greg's grip. He reached behind him and gripped Greg's ass, holding him close. "Cute? That's the best you can come up with?"

Stranger: Lestrade blushed and sunk down a little. "Well... I mean... It's a good thing..." Lestrade frowned, bright red.

You: "Oh, love," Mycroft said, kissing Greg on the nose. "I'm just teasing you. I'm glad you like these clothes. I may keep them once we're done with this." Mycroft winked at Greg and arched an eyebrow, silently telling him exactly why he'd keep the clothes.

Stranger: "You didn't need to laugh though..." Lestrade bit his lip and leaned his head against Mycroft's chest. "I was just trying to love on you..."

You: "And it was good," Mycroft reassured him. "I'm sorry to laugh. I wasn't laughing at you, love. I was teasing." He cupped Greg's cheek and lifted his head so that he could kiss him, looking into his eyes as he did so.

Stranger: "You know what I love seeing you in besides these clothes?" Lestrade muttered, lost in Mycroft's eyes.

You: "What's that?" Mycroft whispered, pulling back just enough so that his lips brushed against Greg's as he spoke.

Stranger: Lestrade slowly undid the buttons on the jeans and slipped them down. "Nothing..." Lestrade growled.

You: Mycroft stepped out of the jeans, shuddering at the gravelly sound of Greg's voice. He ran his hands down Greg's sides and back up, his nails leaving small red trails.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled down Mycroft's boxers again and started on the shirt when a phone beeped in the background. He paused and looked at Mycroft. "Yours or mine?"

You: "Sounded like mine," Mycroft scowled and pulled Greg down for a deep, lingering kiss before walking to the nightstand and glaring at his phone. It was indeed his that had beeped, the little envelope icon flashing to tell him he had a text.

Stranger: We need to go, Mycroft. We're going to be late... you were supposed to be here ten minutes ago. -SH

You: As ever, you are excellent at interrupting little brother. And I thought we were meeting in an hour? - MH

Stranger: No, remember, we were meeting at three? -SH

You: You said four before, Sherlock. And I'm meeting you at four. Somewhat busy right now. - MH

Stranger: We said three. Our train leaves at four thirty. -SH

You: Damn it. Fine. I'll be there in 15 minutes. - MH

Stranger: Thank you! -SH

You: Mycroft dropped his phone with a sigh and turned sadly to Greg. "Apparently I got the time wrong," he said. "I have to leave now." He walked to Greg and folded him into a hug, never wanting to let go.

Stranger: "I thought you said an hour..." Lestrade said, holding him tighter.

You: "I know, love, I'm sorry," Mycroft murmured into Greg's hair. "I'm going to miss you."

Stranger: "Promise to text me...?" Lestrade muttered, pulling back to look up at Mycroft.

You: "I already did, love," Mycroft said, smiling into his eyes. "But I promise again. I'll text you every night."

Stranger: "Good." Lestrade tried to smile. "I'll help you get dressed again..."

You: "I'd prefer the other way around," Mycroft growled quietly in his ear. "But I don't have time. But when I get back, I'm going to make the time."

Stranger: Lestrade smiled a little more and pulled on his own jeans. He went over to where Mycroft was working on his belt. "Want your shirt?" Lestrade laughed.

You: Finishing up buckling the belt, Mycroft looked up and smiled at Greg. "Yes, I do," Mycroft said. "But I'd prefer it on the floor right now."

Stranger: "What? Why?" Lestrade asked, confused, looking down at the fabric in his hand.

You: "Because I'd rather have nothing between us," Mycroft explained, grinning slyly. "My mind seems to be on one track right now." He took the shirt and shimmied into it, smoothing it over his stomach.

Stranger: Lestrade took Mycroft's hands and moved them away. He took the hemming of Mycroft's shirt and slowly started tucking it into his pants.

You: Resting his hands on Greg's shoulders, Mycroft tried to stand still and not buck his hips into Greg's. He knew he had a train to catch but this was straining his determination greatly.

Stranger: Lestrade reached around to tuck in the back, wrapping his arms around Mycroft's waist and pressing their bodies together. He kissed Mycroft gently on the cheek before he stepped back.

You: "This is going to be so difficult," Mycroft murmured, brushing one hand over Greg's cheek. "I wish I could just stay here with you for a month. I know I could get out of work that long and I could get you out too."

Stranger: "How? By getting me fired?" Lestrade chuckled. "Once you get back, we'll spend every night together, okay?"

You: "I told you," Mycroft said, laughing. "The superintendent owes me a favor. And every night sounds wonderful, love." Mycroft stepped forward and wrapped his arms around Greg's shoulders, placing kisses on his lips.

Stranger: "I'm sorry... I can't think with you this close." Lestrade laughed. "Then every night it is." Lestrade kissed him again.

You: Hearing the insistent beep from his phone again, Mycroft regretfully pulled back from Greg. He smiled, brushing his hand over the man's cheek one last time, and picked up his phone to read the text.

Stranger: Where are you? We need to leave now if we're going to make it. I'm not waiting. I'll meet you there. -SH

You: I'm leaving. If I don't see you at the station, I'll meet you at the stop. - MH

Stranger: See you there, then. -SH

You: Mycroft slipped his phone into his jeans pocket and picked up the duffel bag. He couldn't look at Greg right now, not knowing how to say goodbye without taking way too long. "See you soon," he finally mumbled.

Stranger: "Mycroft, you're just going to leave like that?" Lestrade asked, taking his wrist. He pulled him back to him and kissed him deeply, wrapping an arm around Mycroft's neck, the other twisting their fingers together.

You: Mycroft kissed him fiercely, possessively, cupping the back of Greg's neck with his free hand. He could feel a growl rumbling through his chest and didn't bother to hold it back.

Stranger: Lestrade bit Mycroft's lip before sliding his tongue in quickly. After a long time of searching Mycroft's mouth, he regretfully pulled back.

You: "You're not making this any easier," Mycroft said hoarsely. He stepped back and breathed silently, still tasting Greg on his lips. "I really do need to go."

Stranger: "Come on... I'll drive you there..." Lestrade said slowly. "Give your driver a break."

You: Nodding, Mycroft twined his fingers with Greg's and they walked downstairs. Before opening the front door, Mycroft pulled him in for a sweet kiss.

Stranger: "You're not going to make it if we kiss every five feet." Lestrade laughed sadly, just barely pulling away.

You: "How very true," Mycroft joked. He walked outside, his hand still gripping Greg's. He only let go when they had to separate to get into the car. As soon as he could, Mycroft claimed Greg's hand again and couldn't stop staring at him during the drive.

Stranger: Lestrade parked the car and turned to Mycroft. "Well, this is it then... Till you return." Lestrade tried to smile, tears burning in the back of his eyes.

You: "I'm coming back, you know," Mycroft told him quietly. "I'm not leaving you. And you'll hear from me every night." Mycroft needed the reassurance almost as much as he saw Greg did. Leaning forward, he kissed Greg slowly, lovingly.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled him closer before pulling back. "I'm going to miss you too much," Lestrade blinked the tears back the best he could.

You: "I know," Mycroft said. He rubbed at the lone tear that escaped Greg's eye and wiped it away. "But I really do have to go now." He pressed a chaste kiss to Greg's lips and grabbed his duffel out of the back.

Stranger: Lestrade got out and took the duffel bag from Mycroft's hand. Before Mycroft could protest, Lestrade cut in, "Let me carry it for you up to the train..."

You: "Thank you," Mycroft murmured, a smile crossing his face. They walked in silence into the station and waited the few minutes until the train showed up. Right before the train pulled in, Sherlock appeared next to Mycroft, a smug grin on his face.

Stranger: "You two look cozy," He whispered, as he brushed past Mycroft.

You: "Separation difficulties," Mycroft replied just as quietly. "We don't want to leave each other after just getting back together."

Stranger: "Just make sure you catch the train. Leaves in five minutes." Sherlock smirked as he took the duffle bag from Lestrade and ran onto the train, leaving them alone.

You: "I guess he approves of us being together," Mycroft sighed. He turned to Greg and ran a hand down his arm.

Stranger: "He does." Lestrade laughed, looking after Sherlock. "I'm going to miss you..."

You: Mycroft interrupted him by claiming his lips again, nothing chaste in this kiss. Wrapping his arms around Greg's waist, Mycroft held him close and plundered his mouth.

Stranger: The train's whistle sounded behind them, signaling the train was about to leave. "I guess you have to go..." Lestrade pulled back.

You: "Yes, much as I don't want to," Mycroft said. He placed one more kiss on Greg's lips and walked onto the train. He turned and waved as the doors closed and kept his eyes on Greg until he couldn't see him anymore.

Stranger: Sherlock stood behind Mycroft till he turned around, hanging his head. "You'll see him soon."

You: "I know," Mycroft said. "But it doesn't make leaving him any easier. I've never felt this way about anyone before."

Stranger: "I know." Sherlock smirked and dragged Mycroft over to a room. "You can text him maybe."

You: "I've already promised to text him every night," Mycroft said, smiling at the memory of the conversation. "I think I'd go crazy if I couldn't have at least that much contact with him."

Stranger: "Well...you might not be able to text him -every- night..." Sherlock said, sitting down.

You: "And I told him if I couldn't text him the next night, I'd let him know," Mycroft said agreeably. He sat down next to Sherlock and pulled out his phone. He played with it a bit, turning it over and over in his hand.

Stranger: "You could go over a week without texting him, depending on our situation..." Sherlock said, pulling out a small notebook and starting to write something down.

You: "Surely one text wouldn't harm anything," Mycroft said, staring at Sherlock in surprise. "It only takes a few seconds to type and send."

Stranger: "Yes, because a homeless man texting is totally normal," Sherlock snorted.

You: "Who's going to see?" Mycroft countered. "Especially at night."

Stranger: "You don't know. We have to be careful. If we get caught, Lestrade still could be killed." Sherlock closed the notebook and pocketed it.

You: "I'll find a way," Mycroft snapped. "I'm not breaking this promise to him." He fidgeted with the phone, running his fingers over the buttons while glaring at Sherlock.

Stranger: "Fine, if you want to run the risk that could get Lestrade killed, you do that. But I swear," Sherlock said, poking Mycroft's chest and getting in his face, "if you get John killed, you will never live it down."

You: "I'm not an idiot," Mycroft snapped. "I do know how to be careful and subtle. It's an unwritten part of my job description. I will do nothing to harm Greg or John."

Stranger: "I'm not letting you ruin it." Sherlock snached Mycroft's phone out of his hand and pocketed it, turning it off.

You: "Give me my phone back," Mycroft said, his voice dangerously quiet. "I'm not the one in the habit of ruining things, am I?"

Stranger: "I did one thing and you're just going to hang it over my head forever after I fixed it. You can have your phone when it's safe. I'm not risking John's life, just so you can text your boyfriend." Sherlock growled.

You: "You are not going to make me break my promise," Mycroft snapped. "The last thing I want to happen is Greg think I died or just don't want to talk to him. Give. It. Back."

Stranger: "No, Mycroft. You can't have it back till it's safe."

You: Taking a deep breath, Mycroft tried to change his tone to a reasonable and pleading one. "Please," Mycroft said. "I don't want to ruin this new beginning we have."

Stranger: "And I want to have a beginning with John..." Sherlock said slowly, avoiding Mycroft's eyes. "I can't risk you being caught and blowing our cover."

You: "Damn it," Mycroft said tiredly. "You already broke him once. Don't do it again." He looked away and crossed his arms over his chest.

Stranger: "I'll give it to you if we find a hidden place where you can text him, okay? Otherwise, you can't text him." Sherlock sighed.

You: "I already told you that's what I planned to do," Mycroft said. "I'm not going to endanger our lives or Greg's and John's by doing this. But I have to talk to him at least once a day. Everything is still too fragile."

Stranger: Sherlock worked the battery out of the phone in his pocket and put the back back on. He handed Mycroft his phone. "I can't promise you can once a day, don't get your hopes up, alright?"

You: "Yeah, fine," Mycroft said, taking the phone. It felt odd in his hand, lighter. "What did you do? Why is it lighter?"

Stranger: "It's not." Sherlock said, standing. "I'm taking a walk."

You: Mycroft watched Sherlock leave through narrowed eyes and then looked down to study his phone. He opened the back of it and saw that the battery had been removed. "Damn him," Mycroft whispered to himself.

Stranger: Sherlock weaved through the crowd in the hallway, pressing his way till he found a different, empty room. He entered and shut the door behind him, sitting down.

You: Mycroft placed the back in its slot on his phone and slipped it into his pocket. He got up and carefully worked his way to where Sherlock had escaped to. "Well?" Mycroft asked, spotting his brother. "Nothing different about my phone, huh?"

Stranger: "Shouldn't be." Sherlock said, not looking up to him.

You: "Don't play the innocent," Mycroft chided him. "You're not very good at it. Where's my battery?"

Stranger: "Pocket." Sherlock sighed. He pulled it out, showed it to Mycroft, then pocketed it again.

You: "Why did you take it out of my phone and then lie about it?" Mycroft asked with what he considered commendable calm. "I already told you I was going to be careful."

Stranger: "I'm sorry, but I'm just not risking it. I gave you your phone back, as you asked."

You: "Semantics, Sherlock," Mycroft hissed quietly. "You know it's useless without the battery. Why do you insist on trying to wreck my relationship with Greg?"

Stranger: "If I wanted to wreck it, would I have fixed it like I did?" Sherlock growled.

You: "I don't know," Mycroft replied. "You fixed it and now you're trying to make me break a promise to him. I understand that you're worried something will go wrong and John will get hurt. But I won't let that happen. Why won't you just trust me?"

Stranger: Sherlock stared at Mycroft for a long while, glaring at him angrily. After a minute, he sighed and handed him the battery. "Don't you dare. Ruin. Anything." He growled.

You: Mycroft breathed a sigh of relief and quickly slotted the battery back into his phone. He turned it on and smiled at the bright flash of light. "Thank you," he said quietly. "And I'm not going to."

Stranger: Sherlock just shook his head, looking away from Mycroft and out the window.

You: Mycroft typed a quick text to Greg, smiling as he realized how sappy it was. But he sent it anyway, wanting to at least read Greg's words.

Stranger: Babe, what's gotten into you? -GL

You: Miss you. And I had to fight Sherlock for access to my phone. - MH

Stranger: I never heard you so sappy, even in bed. -GL

You: What can I say? You bring out the cuddly sap in me. - MH

Stranger: Emmm babe... You need to come back... -GL

You: I will as soon as I can. Though I guess I should warn you that, according to Sherlock, I may have to go a whole week without texting you. - MH

Stranger: A whole week? Without talking to you? Why don't you just kill me? -GL

You: I feel exactly the same way. After a... spirited discussion, I got my phone back and I will text you as much as I can. Even if I have to hide in a bathroom to do so. - MH

Stranger: Just be careful my love. As much as it will kill me, I'd rather go a month without you then to have to go the rest of my life without you. -GL

You: I will be. I'm not going to do something to lose you again. - MH

Stranger: I love you sweetie. More than the world. -GL

You: I love you too, Greg. And sweetie? Why the pet names? - MH

Stranger: Do you not like them? :( -GL

You: I'm not sure. It's different. No one's called me things like that before. - MH

Stranger: Oh... I'm sorry... -GL

You: Don't be, love. Just give me time to get used to it? I don't dislike them if that helps. - MH

Stranger: What about that? You just called me love. Is that not a pet name? -GL

You: Yes but it's also truth. I never thought about it as a pet name. Does that bother you? - MH

Stranger: No, I love when you call me love. I'm just trying to be sappy like you were... Trying to get you feel like I did. -GL

You: Keep calling me them, then. Let me get used to them, love. And thank you. I wish you were here right now because I'd be kissing you. - MH

Stranger: Oh... Can you turn the train around? -GL

You: I wish I could. I would in a second. When I text you that I'm coming back, make sure you have a few days free. - MH

Stranger: I'll try. No promises, but I'll try. At worst, we'll be sleeping a lot together. -GL

You: Sounds like a plan. I think we're almost there so I'm going to have to say goodbye for now. I love you, Greg. - MH

Stranger: I love you too, babe. I'll talk to you when you can... -GL

You: And I will text you every night like I promised or at least tell you when I can't. Stay safe, love. - MH

Stranger: You stay safe too, sweetie. -GL

You: Mycroft pocketed his phone again, a soft smile playing on his lips. The train slowed as they approach the station and he looked over at Sherlock. "You ready for this?" Mycroft asked.

Stranger: "As I'll ever be." Sherlock stood and took his backpack, the only thing he brought.

You: Mycroft shouldered his duffel bag and followed after Sherlock once the train came to a stop. He was content to stay silent, knowing that, more likely than not, his little brother had a plan. A very detailed and organized plan.

Stranger: Sherlock got into a hailed cab and waited for Mycroft.

You: Mycroft slid into the cab after Sherlock, placing his duffel on the floor between his feet. "So," Mycroft said conversationally. "Care to go over your plan with me?"

Stranger: "I don't have one," Sherlock said calmly after telling the cabbie the name of the hotel and leaning back in his seat.

You: "Why don't you have one?" Mycroft asked, annoyed. "You always have a plan. What's the whole point of this if you don't have a plan?"

Stranger: "We were going to follow him first, remember?" Sherlock said slowly, ignoring the anger in his voice. "I need to know the best time to get into his flat."

You: "And why are we going to a hotel?" Mycroft asked. "I thought we were supposed to be playing homeless people?"

Stranger: "No one said we were checking -in- to the hotel." Sherlock said, as though it was obvious.

You: "Then why are we going there? You need to at least explain a little bit. I dislike being kept in the dark," Mycroft sighed.

Stranger: "Behind there is where we find the first person we need to connect with." Sherlock said slowly. "Really Mycroft, if you weren't on your little overnight date with Lestrade you would have known all this."

You: "Really?" Mycroft drawled. "You would have explained it all then? I highly doubt that. What happens after we connect with this person?"

Stranger: Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. "I set this all up last night." He sighed again. "He's followed the sniper around all today. He's going to give us the information he's collected."

You: "Good. Hopefully we won't be out here very long," Mycroft said, settling back in his seat. He watched the streets flow by, his thoughts very much centered around Greg.

Stranger: "You just want to go back to Lestrade." Sherlock hissed.

You: "I'm not going to lie," Mycroft said easily. "Of course I do. But I also want to make sure he's safe. Neither of those are mutually exclusive of each other."

Stranger: "Why did you come?" Sherlock almost whispered. "If all you're going to talk about is Lestrade.. is your head even here? I need it here if you're going to help me, not back with Lestrade..."

You: "Of course I'm thinking of him," Mycroft told him. "But I can focus on what we need to do. And I came to help you, brother dear. The sooner this is over, the sooner we can all go back to our lives."

Stranger: The cab pulled up to the hotel and Sherlock got out. "As soon as this is over, you can go back to your life. I have to find another sniper."

You: "I didn't mean just this," Mycroft growled. "I meant the whole thing. I'm still going to help you find Moran." Mycroft followed quickly, wondering where exactly they were meeting their contact.

Stranger: Sherlock walked around the hotel to the back and entered the alley way. He went over to the dumpster and tapped it twice.

You: Mycroft looked around, hoping to see someone that wasn't the police. They waited for a few minutes until the dumpster was tapped again, in a quick, three note staccato.

Stranger: A man in ripped clothes slowly climbed out of the dumpster. As he landed on the ground next to Sherlock, he slipped him a twenty pound note, which the man pocketed and nodded at Sherlock. Sherlock followed him down another alley.

You: Mycroft rolled his eyes and sighed inwardly at the spy-play but followed silently. He hefted his pack higher on his shoulder, glad that he hadn't packed it heavily.

Stranger: Sherlock followed the man to an alleyway that was deeply twisted into the buildings. He whispered something to Sherlock, pointing up at one of the windows and handing Sherlock a piece of paper.

You: "What's going on?" Mycroft asked quietly. He tried to get a look at the paper in Sherlock's hand but his brother folded it quickly.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded at the man and pocketed the note. He whispered something back, shook the man's hand, then started to climb a rough ladder on the building that looked nothing like a fire escape, up to the run down building.

You: Following with only a little trepidation, Mycroft stopped next to Sherlock on the sixth floor. He carefully did not look down, rather concentrated on the brick wall before him. "So, get the information you needed?" Mycroft asked.

Stranger: Sherlock went down a small ledge three windows down and climbed into the open window. "Coming?" He called back.

You: "I'd really rather not but I don't really have much choice, do I?" Mycroft replied wryly. He carefully edged onto the ledge and folded himself into the window. "I'm assuming this is where the sniper is staying?"

Stranger: "No, this is where we're staying." Sherlock said, setting his backpack down. "This building was set on fire over a year ago in a kitchen fire downstairs and no one bothered to buy it and fix it up. Homeless people sleep here all the time. All the doors are locked so the only way in and out is the way we came in. No working water nor electricity. So settle in."

You: "What did that man tell you?" Mycroft said, dropping his duffel bag against the wall. He sat down elegantly, folding his legs underneath him. "And what's on that paper you didn't want me to see?"

Stranger: "Nothing you need to worry about. Just stuff about this room." Sherlock lied quickly.

You: "Sherlock, I can tell you're lying," Mycroft said severely. "If it's important, I need to know. And it most likely has something to do with this."

Stranger: Sherlock laid down on the floor and folded his arms under his head. "It's nothing."

You: "Now who's going to ruin things?" Mycroft asked rhetorically. "Sherlock, I need to know everything you know so that I can make competent decisions. What was on the note?"

Stranger: "The note is only to trade for the information we need. You don't need to know what's on it." Sherlock growled, his eyes closed.

You: "Trade for information? What could you possibly trade that would be contained in that note?" Mycroft said disbelievingly. "Spill, Sherlock."

Stranger: Sherlock sighed and sat up to glare at Mycroft. "You don't need to know."

You: "Yes, I do," Mycroft grated, glaring back. "If there's something on that note that I could have used to keep us or Greg and John out of danger and I don't have the information, what do you think will happen? Tell me."

Stranger: "It's nothing like that. Now go to sleep. We have a late shift." Sherlock said, laying back down and closing his eyes.

You: "Why don't you want to tell me what's on the paper?" Mycroft asked curiously. "I don't have enough information to deduce it on my own. Though, with your reticence, it most likely has something to do with John."

Stranger: "It has nothing to do with John." Sherlock growled.

You: "Then why aren't you telling me?" Mycroft asked reasonably. "We worked well in Canada because we shared information and didn't keep secrets. Why does that have to stop now?"

Stranger: "Only for now. This is just something I can't let you in on. Trust me, would you?" Sherlock said, voice low and sounding hurt.

You: "Are you going to tell me at some point?" Mycroft wondered. He watched Sherlock, wondering what was going through his mind.

Stranger: Sherlock sighed, noticing he wasn't going to get sleep until Mycroft was satisfied. "Maybe... I don't know."

You: "To assuage my curiousity a little bit, can you tell me why you can't tell me?" Mycroft asked, smiling at the slight absurdity of the sentence.

Stranger: "Mycroft, please! You need sleep, we have a late shift tonight. And before you tell me you had plenty last night I can tell your sleep with Lestrade was more Lestrade and less sleep, seeing how your voice sounds strained and you have bags under your eyes. I can't tell you any more then what I have." Sherlock paused for a minute then looked at Mycroft. "Please, try trusting me for once."

You: Staring at his brother for several long moments, Mycroft made the decision to trust him. At least for the time being. "Fine," he said. "If it's that important to you, I will drop the matter for now." He laid down as well, surrendering to the exhaustion that had been dogging him all morning.

Stranger: "Thank you..." Sherlock groaned, rolling onto his side. He waited till he heard the soft rhythm of Mycroft's breathing, knowing he was asleep, before silently getting up and climbing out the window, as quietly as he could.

You: Waking slowly after several hours, Mycroft looked around the room and realized that he was alone. He could see no evidence of a note or of Sherlock's whereabouts, so he pulled out his phone and sent Sherlock a text.

Stranger: Sherlock heard his phone beep and pulled it out, seeing the worried text from Mycroft, he closed it and shut his phone down. He went up to a metal door covered in spray paint and nasty symbols and knocked twice, waiting for the door to open to him, he passed the note through the slot.

You: Mycroft waited several minutes before sending another text to Sherlock. After not receiving an answer, Mycroft ran his hand through his hair and swore inventively. No matter how hard he tried, Sherlock could always pull the worst words out of his mouth.

Stranger: Sherlock entered the dimly lit underground room and sat down at the only table. In the dim light, a man with a big gun stood in the corner. The note was open on the table in front of the man on the other side, who had obviously already read it. He pulled out a neatly wrapped box covered in paper bag wrapping and slid it across to Sherlock, who picked it up wordlessly, nodded, and stood to leave.

You: Boredom creeping up, for Mycroft didn't think to pack a book or anything like that, he pulled his phone out and texted Greg again. What are you up to? - MH

Stranger: Sleep. It's 11 at night Mycroft... What are you still doing up? -GL

You: Turning around my sleep schedule apparently. Sherlock told me we have to do most of our lurking a night. Sorry for waking you, love. - MH

You: Not there yet. I fell asleep and when I woke up, Sherlock was gone. Just waiting for him to get back because there's no sense me running around trying to find him. - MH

Stranger: Just gone? You sure he's okay? -GL

You: He hasn't texted me back so I have no idea. I hope he is and that he didn't take a ridiculous chance that got him killed. - MH

Stranger: God... You don't sound all that worried. -GL

You: Not through text no. But I am worried. He got a note earlier today and did all he could to not let me know what's on it. Everything about this worries me. - MH

Stranger: That man... It's a miracle he's still alive to this day... His brains can make him really stupid most the time... -GL

You: I agree. And he doesn't have John watching his back anymore. He's starting to revert to the man he was right after he quit using. And that man kept me awake worried at night. - MH

Stranger: I know... I know... So what are you going to do? -GL

You: I have no idea. When I try to push, get him to trust me, he pulls further away. It's like the conversations we had in Vancouver have completely disappeared and we're back to the animosity we used to have. - MH

Stranger: Maybe he's just watching out for you? I don't know... -GL

You: Maybe. But I can see how much this is hurting him. I know how much he misses John. But he won't allow me to help. It's colossally frustrating. - MH

Stranger: Well, tell him that, not me, babe. If I were you, I'd go see if you could find him. Being VERY careful, of course. I don't want you dead, my love. -GL

You: Being dead would be rather inconvenient. Imagine me speaking in a dry tone, by the way. And he could be anywhere. I don't think running around aimlessly is the best plan. - MH

Stranger: So what? You're going to leave your brother out there to die? I don't know. Do what you think is best, baby. -GL

You: Hold on a second love. I hear footsteps outside. With any luck, that's Sherlock returning. - MH. Mycroft placed his phone back in his pocket and got to his feet, crouching in the shadows. A dark shape crawled in the window and paused, looking to where Mycroft had been sleeping.

Stranger: Sherlock exited the underground and tucked the package in his coat. He started back to the hotel they were dropped off earlier, turning into another alleyway near by. "Nox?" Sherlock said is a growl. A woman, messy in ripped clothing and matted hair, appeared from the shadows. "You have them?" She asked, her voice rough for obvious years of smoking. Sherlock nodded and showed her the package. "You have the information?" The woman showed Sherlock a folder. They silently traded the items in the shadows.

You: Mycroft didn't allow himself to breathe as the shadow looked around the room. This wasn't Sherlock, he was sure of that now. The shape was all wrong. He was preparing himself to rush the shadow when it sighed and went back out of the window.

Stranger: Sherlock took the folder and nodded at the woman as she disappeared. He put the folder in his coat and started back to Mycroft.

You: Settling back down, Mycroft pulled out his phone to reassure Greg. Wasn't Sherlock but I'm ok. I think it was someone scrounging for things. They left though. - MH

Stranger: I'm worried about you baby. -GL

You: I know, love. But I will do everything I can to be safe. You can trust me on that. I'm going to come back to you. - MH

Stranger: You better... If you die, I would have to too. -GL

You: Don't you dare. I don't want to even think about the possibility of you not here. - MH

Stranger: But if you weren't around, there wouldn't be a point. -GL

You: Don't say that Greg. You are important. - MH

You: God, I don't even know what to say to that. You mean so much to me, love. You brought me warmth and light. - MH

Stranger: I love you too much, Mycroft. Please, be very careful. -GL

You: I will. I love you Greg. You stay safe as well. - MH

You: Sleep well, love. Good night. - MH

You: Mycroft smiled happily and put his phone away yet again. At this rate, he might as well just put it on a bungee. He settled more comfortable on the floor, his head pillowed on his duffel bag, and waited for Sherlock to get back.

Stranger: Sherlock climbed the rusty ladder up to the sixth floor, and walked on the ledge and went through the window. He landed on the ground and searched around for Mycroft, seeing him on his duffle bag, looking asleep.

You: "Where did you go?" Mycroft asked quietly. "And why didn't you wake me? By the way, we had a visitor but they left without doing anything."

Stranger: "A visitor?" Sherlock looked around the room as though the said visitor might still be there. "Who?"

You: "I don't know," Mycroft said. "All I saw was a vague shadow. They looked around and then left. I thought it was you at first but then realized it wasn't. So? What did you do?"

Stranger: "He didn't do anything to you, right? Didn't see you?" Sherlock asked, going over to the window and looking it over.

You: "No, I didn't even breathe," Mycroft assured him. "They looked around and then left. Didn't even see their face."

Stranger: "Weird..." Sherlock muttered under his breath. "Anywho, I'm just glad everything's ok..."

You: "So am I. Now will you please tell me where you were and what you were doing?" Mycroft said. "I believe I've told you this before but I dislike being kept in the dark."

Stranger: Sherlock sighed and pulled out the folder. "I was out getting this, okay?" Sherlock handed Mycroft the stack of papers and sat down on the sad lump that was supposed to be the couch.

You: Mycroft shuffled through the papers quickly, absorbing the information. He sucked in a surprised breath at the pictures, more candid shots of John, Greg, and Mrs. Hudson along with some of him.

Stranger: "Most of it is information on the sniper we're tracking. The rest is stuff the homeless were able to snag off him or from his trash, or from his house itself. Had to pay -extra- for all of that...."

You: "Extra?" Mycroft repeated, carefully placing the papers back in the folder. "What do you mean?"

Stranger: "Just a job. That note had everything on it, pretty straight forward." Sherlock shrugged.

You: "And they're sure he's still there? Is this enough information to tell you that this is the right man this time?" Mycroft asked. He couldn't help all the questions. Talking with Sherlock was like pulling teeth sometimes.

Stranger: "Well, it's a start. I still want to follow him a couple of days. Like we were supposed to do the last guy, you know? It's just, this time we don't have to sneak into his flat till we're ready to kill him." Sherlock pulled his backpack over and pulled out a zip bag of dry cereal. He tossed it at Mycroft.

You: Mycroft caught it easily and opened the bag. He popped a few pieces into his mouth while still studying Sherlock. "Do we start tonight? After that nap, I'm completely awake," Mycroft said.

Stranger: "According to those papers-" Sherlock pointed at the folder in Mycroft's hands. "-The sniper has a habit of going for a walk at one in the morning. They never trailed him, so that's what we're doing tonight. In fact, we should leave now." Sherlock said, standing.

You: Mycroft took a few more pieces of cereal and then closed the bag, stowing it in his duffel. He stood as well, looking around the room dubiously. "Do we leave our stuff here?" he asked. "Will it be safe? Someone's already came in here once."

Stranger: "Here, I'll stash them behind the couch. It won't be obvious that way unless they were really looking for them." Sherlock said, taking Mycroft's bag and his own.

You: Mycroft nodded and walked over to the window, waiting for Sherlock to join him. "After you," he said, waving at the window when Sherlock made his way over.

Stranger: "Just be careful, it's easier to slip going out than in." Sherlock warned as he climbed out and moved down to give Mycroft room to get out.

You: "Believe me, I don't want to fall again," Mycroft chuckled dryly and carefully followed Sherlock out. They made their way down the ladder again and Mycroft breathed a sigh of relief when they touched down on solid ground again. Following after Sherlock, Mycroft wondered where exactly the sniper went at 1am every night.

Stranger: Sherlock started to make his way to the sniper's flats build. He made sure Mycroft kept right behind him at all times, knowing this part of town was shady on its best days.

You: Looking around curiously, Mycroft noticed that several of the homeless littering the streets offered Sherlock a tiny nod of recognition. "Part of your network?" Mycroft asked quietly.

Stranger: "You could... say that." Sherlock hissed, not looking at any of them.

You: Mycroft looked at his brother, startled at the venom in his words. "Why the avoidance?" he asked, confused. "Is this yet another thing I'm not supposed to know?"

Stranger: "It's a branch I'm not quite proud of, Mycroft, please, leave it at that." Sherlock said, the same hardness in his tone.

You: Sighing again, mourning the loss of the somewhat easier camaraderie they'd shared before, Mycroft fell silent and just walked with Sherlock. His brother slowed outside a four story tenement building made of crumbling red bricks.

Stranger: Sherlock went over to a dumpster and hid behind it, glancing at his watch. "Nearly one. We just need to wait..." Sherlock muttered, more to himself than Mycroft.

You: Mycroft settled against the wall, slouching in a similar manner to the other people he'd observed here. He kept glancing sidelong at Sherlock, wanting to push for the answers he needed but knowing it would only cause Sherlock to retreat further inside himself.

Stranger: Sherlock got down lower, staying in complete silence. They waited there for what seemed like an hour before Sherlock got up and turned to Mycroft.

You: Straightening, Mycroft looked at his brother, hoping he would explain a little more about what was going on. "What's the matter?" Mycroft prompted softly.

Stranger: "We either missed him or he's not going tonight." Sherlock sighed, scratching the back of his head.

You: Mycroft pulled out his phone, glancing around to make sure no one was watching. He read the display then showed it to Sherlock: 12:53 am. "It's early yet," Mycroft said. "Give it to at least 1:10."

Stranger: Sherlock looked down at his watch. "It says it's almost two..." He said confused.

You: Mycroft snorted, realizing Sherlock's watch cost him an hour with Greg, then said, "Did you reset it correctly after returning from Canada?"

Stranger: "Yes, it was on time back at home... I swear..." He blushed slightly.

You: Mycroft couldn't help the chuckle that bubbled up from his chest and out of his lips. He looked at the surprise on Sherlock's face and the chuckle turned into full, choking laughter. Holding his hand over his mouth, Mycroft doubled over and laughed all the tension away. "Sorry," he finally said, standing straight and breathing heavily. "Didn't mean to laugh so hard at that. Just everything getting to me."

Stranger: "It's not funny..." Sherlock blushed deeper scarlet. He turned his back to Mycroft and started watching for the sniper again, his ears hot.

You: "I'm sorry," Mycroft apologized again. He placed a light hand on Sherlock's shoulder and squeezed gently. "I wasn't laughing at you, little brother."

Stranger: Sherlock shrugged off the hand. "Just drop it..." Sherlock growled.

You: Letting his hand fall to his side, Mycroft looked around trying to find the sniper. He could feel the seconds ticking away and checked his phone again. 1 am. The door on the other side of the dumpster opened and an average man walked out. Brown hair, dark eyes, wearing a dark coat with his hands jammed in the pockets.

Stranger: Sherlock touched Mycroft's ankle to let him know that's who they were waiting for. Sherlock stood, waited till the sniper made it to the corner of the building, and started following, not checking to make sure Mycroft was behind him.

You: Following quickly, Mycroft studied the sniper and tried to deduce as much as he could. The man was a loner and had no one in his life. He bought his clothes cheaply, but cared for them as if he didn't expect to be able to get more. Hair slightly shaggy showing that he didn't care much for it. The sniper turned a corner and Mycroft had to speed up to keep up with Sherlock.

Stranger: Sherlock kept his head down and his eyes up. He turned corner after corner after the sniper, keeping his footfalls quiet. The sniper paused, and Sherlock reached blindly back, took, what he hoped was, Mycroft's shirt, and threw him in an alley, where he followed.

You: "What are you doing?" Mycroft hissed, gripping Sherlock's hand on his shirt. He glared at Sherlock and opened his mouth to speak again when Sherlock -looked- at him.

Stranger: Sherlock tightened his grip on Mycroft's shirt and glared at Mycroft to get him to shut up. When Mycroft closed his mouth, Sherlock looked back around the corner, seeing the sniper gone. "He's gone!" Sherlock hissed, throwing Mycroft's shirt from his hand.

You: "Why did you throw us in this alley?" Mycroft asked. He looked around the corner as well, noting that even the perpetual existence of the homeless was absent here.

Stranger: "This is the more dangerous part of town. If he had saw us, he would have known something was up." Sherlock pushed past Mycroft's shoulder.

You: "Why? We could have just been two people looking for something, a dealer or a mark," Mycroft suggested. "How do we find him now?"

Stranger: "Not at one in the morning, come on, Mycroft, -think- for once!" Sherlock growled. "We have to wait for tomorrow."

You: "If I were in his position, I would assume that anyone I saw out here was similar to me," Mycroft countered. "On the wrong side of the law and not someone I want to cross."

Stranger: "You'd be dead within minutes." Sherlock growled.

You: Sighing yet again, Mycroft dropped the subject. He continued to stare out of the alley, wondering if the sniper would return. To his surprise, the man did, walking out of a doorway carrying a small envelope.

Stranger: Sherlock sat down against a wall, crossing his arms, out of sight of the alley's passerbys. He watched Mycroft and shook his head at him.

You: Mycroft hissed quietly at Sherlock and waved for him to get up. The sniper walked past the alley's mouth, not looking anywhere but straight ahead. Letting him get a decent distance ahead, Mycroft slipped out of the alley and followed him.

Stranger: Sherlock didn't see Mycroft waving him over and stood when he realized he wasn't in the alley anymore. He quickly went to the sidewalk to see no sign of Mycroft anywhere. "Where did you go, you idiot." Sherlock hissed quietly.

You: The sniper took the same route back to his flat, looking neither left nor right. It was as if he didn't believe he could be followed, Mycroft thought. He didn't notice that Sherlock wasn't with him, so intent was he on tracking the man.

Stranger: Sherlock didn't want to use his phone and risk being seen, so he quickly disappeared into the shadows of the alley, making his way back to the flat they were using, hoping he had returned.

You: Watching the sniper enter the tenement building, Mycroft was surprised to see that the man had taken the first floor flat. He edged up to a window and watched the man take off his coat and lay the envelope on a desk. He disappeared from the room for a bit and returned with a cup of tea to open the envelope. Some money fluttered out along with a photograph. One of Sherlock in the clothes he was wearing tonight.

Stranger: Sherlock made it back to Mycroft's and his borrowed flat and climbed in. "Mycroft?" He asked, seeing a figure sitting on the 'couch'. The light was too dim to make anything of detail out.

You: "Yes," Mycroft replied quietly. He had run back to the flat they had taken, hoping to find Sherlock there when he realized that his brother wasn't following him. "We have a problem. The sniper had a picture of you in those clothes. It was in that envelope along with some money. I didn't see what else he had."

Stranger: "A picture of me like this? Did you happen so see who he got this picture from?" Sherlock asked, pacing.

You: "No, he walked out of the second door down from the alley we were in," Mycroft explained. "Then went straight back to his flat."

Stranger: "I was set up..." Sherlock growled. He punched the wall as he passed it, then started thinking, his knuckles bright red.

You: "Who could possibly have done it?" Mycroft asked. "Your homeless network are the only contacts you've had, right? And it would have been quick and they'd have to know who you really were."

Stranger: "None of the homeless network really knows who I am. They think I'm a friend of Sherlock's. I had one other contact... Outside the network." Sherlock sighed, running his hand through his hair.

You: "Who was this contact?" Mycroft asked suspiciously. "Because it seems they are the only option to have betrayed you."

Stranger: "I can't..." Sherlock sighed again, his pacing continued.

You: "Sherlock, you're putting yourself in danger," Mycroft snapped. "You have to tell me so we can make sure you're safe. Stop keeping secrets from me, damn it!"

Stranger: Sherlock was a little taken back from the hardness in Mycroft's voice. Pulling himself back together, Sherlock sat down next to Mycroft. "In order to get that information that was in that folder, I had to... go behind your back and... go back to my days when I was hooked on drugs. That branch of the homeless shelter that was nodding at me that you pointed out, that branch was drug dealers. On that paper I got when we first got here was a list of what to get to trade for the information... I couldn't tell you... Only because you would lose respect in me..." Sherlock looked down, bothering his lip. "I didn't want you thinking I had a problem again..."

You: "I would have understood," Mycroft said sadly, rising to place a hand on Sherlock's shoulder again. "As long as you weren't using again, I would have understood. You wouldn't have lost my respect. But now, you're in danger. We have to figure out who knows you're still alive and neutralize them."

Stranger: "I wouldn't use them again. I promised John I wouldn't." Sherlock smirked slightly. "My bet is, whoever tried to kill me back in Canada is the one slipping the money to the sniper."

You: "That means they followed us back here," Mycroft said thoughtfully. "I can have Anthea search for people on the same flight or just after ours coming into London." He pulled out his phone and sent the text to Anthea, confident she would receive it when she woke up.

Stranger: "Sounds good. Also, we shouldn't both sleep at the same time anymore. We need to take shifts. Agreed?" Sherlock asked, standing.

You: "Yes, you should sleep first," Mycroft said, finding a comfortable position on the floor across from the couch. "I slept this afternoon while you were out running around."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and stretched out on the couch. Closing his eyes, he said, "If anything is to happen, even the smallest of things, do -not- be afraid to wake me."

You: "Of course," Mycroft agreed easily. He waited until light snores filled the room and settled down further against the wall. He wanted to pull his phone out to text Greg again but he wouldn't wake the poor man up. Mycroft settled for solving various hypothetical international incidents until the sun rising woke Sherlock up.

Stranger: Sherlock sat up on the lump of a sofa and blinked his eyes a couple times, his back painful. He stretched his neck and stood, staring at Mycroft against the wall.

You: "Sleep well?" Mycroft asked mildly before turning to stare out the window again. He was exhausted but wouldn't allow it to show on his face. He was the elder brother after all.

Stranger: "Besides the sofa being the most uncomfortable thing in the world, fine." Sherlock said, moving over to Mycroft. "If you want to sleep for a few hours, we have time."

You: "Sleep sounds good," Mycroft said, getting stiffly to his feet. "As long as you keep watch and don't run around by yourself. We don't know who is trying to kill you."

Stranger: "I promised you I'd keep watch. That's what I plan to do." Sherlock smiled tiredly and pushed aside a wake up yawn. "Go ahead and sleep. I'll be right here." Sherlock sat down across from the window.

You: Mycroft moved to the couch and laid down, settling his duffel bag underneath his head. He wriggled a bit to find a comfortable position then closed his eyes with a sigh. He was asleep before he had taken three deep breaths.

Stranger: Sherlock sighed and smiled as his brother fell asleep. He thought for a moment before snapping a picture and sending it to Lestrade. Thought you may like this. -SH

You: Thank you, Sherlock. He's adorable when he's sleeping. - GL

Stranger: Yeah yeah yeah, don't drag me into your little love-feast. -SH

You: You started it by sending that picture. How long are you guys going to be doing this, by the way? - GL

Stranger: No clue. But the sniper has a picture of me now. -SH

You: What does that mean? How did he get it? - GL

Stranger: We don't know. But he may be after me to kill me. -SH

You: That's not all that surprising. Moriarty wanted you dead Sherlock. I'm sure whatever minions he left behind are working as hard as they can to carry that out. - GL

Stranger: I am dead, remember? To all of them, anyway. You, Molly, and Mycroft are the only people that know otherwise. -SH

You: Obviously not if that sniper has your picture. Unless they think you're just a criminal after the sniper. - GL

Stranger: I hope that's all he thinks... Otherwise it's not just me in danger. -SH

You: What do you mean? Is Mycroft in danger too now? - GL

Stranger: If he knows I'm alive, Mycroft's in danger, John, Mrs. Hudson, and you. -SH

You: All right. If you need my help, do NOT hesitate to ask. What do you need now? - GL

Stranger: I do imagine Mycroft has forwarded the information to you? -SH

You: No. Not yet. Should he have? - GL

Stranger: I told him to after our little talk. Before the hospital. --SH

You: Oh, that information. Yes he did forward it to me. I thought you were talking about the information you just told me about. Why? - GL

Stranger: Mind seeing if you can add to it? -SH

You: Not a problem. I'm actually heading into work now. Give me a couple hours to scour the databases. - GL

Stranger: Thank you. -SH

You: You're welcome. Keep Mycroft safe for me. - GL

Stranger: I'm trying, but your lover followed the sniper without me. Starting to grow his wings, this one. -SH

You: Why did you leave him alone?! You should have been with him. - GL

Stranger: I was with him, looked away for a second, he was gone. -SH

You: God, Sherlock, what if something had happened to him? Please, please, don't let him out of your sight again. Mycroft isn't used to doing things like this. He's the power behind the desk, not on the streets. - GL

Stranger: Lestrade, please. If it makes you feel better I'll go out, buy a leash and put it on him. -SH

You: That's my job. Just keep an eye on him. I can't lose him again. - GL

Stranger: Look, I don't want to know what you do and don't in bed. I'm watching him now, don't worry. -SH

You: Good. I'm at the office now. I'll text you again if and when I have more information. - GL

Stranger: Thank you. -SH

You: Lestrade walked tiredly into his office, not having slept well the night before. He missed Mycroft more than he thought he would. After distributing the new cases on his desk among the officers in his division, Lestrade closed the door and pulled up the email with the information Mycroft had sent him. He searched through numerous databases and mug shots until one name floated out of the morass of data. Kevin Anderson, arrested twice for dealing. Out on parole and currently living in the same part of London the sniper did. He sat back with a satisfied smile and emailed the information to Sherlock's phone.

Stranger: Perfect. This looks just like the guy I dealt with earlier. Has to be him. Good job, Lestrade, thanks! -SH

You: You're welcome. And I'm very surprised you actually gave me a compliment, Sherlock. Be careful and good hunting. - GL

Stranger: Thank you. And stay safe. -SH

You: Mycroft felt himself floating back to consciousness and didn't bother to fight the sensation. It was probably about time to wake up anyway. Opening his eyes, he saw Sherlock putting away his phone. "What happened while I was asleep?" he asked groggily.

Stranger: "Not much. Text Lestrade, got new information from him, sent him a picture." Sherlock cracked a smile.

You: "A picture of what?" Mycroft asked, sitting up. He checked his own phone and didn't have a reply from Anthea yet. He assumed she was still asleep.

Stranger: "Picture of you." Sherlock said, smiling and standing to fetch his backpack from behind the couch.

You: Mycroft glared at him suspiciously and thought furiously. "What kind of picture?" he finally asked. "Did you take a picture of me asleep?"

Stranger: "Yes." Sherlock shrugged, sitting back down to go through his pack. "He seemed very happy with it, too."

You: Running a hand through his hair, Mycroft couldn't decide if he was annoyed or pleased. He finally decided to be both and said, "I'd appreciate you not doing that again. Though thank you for making him happy."

Stranger: "If it makes him happy, seeing his boyfriend 'adorable' and safe, why not do it again?" Sherlock asked, quoting Lestrade.

You: Mycroft could find no answer to that, his body heating slightly at the thought Greg found him adorable. He stood and stretched, dropping the subject. "Do you have any water?" he asked instead.

Stranger: "Uh... Here." Sherlock pulled out a container of water. "I brought one for myself, but that's all I have. When we run out, we need to refill somewhere."

You: Mycroft nodded and took the bottle. He drank a small amount and gave it back to Sherlock, knowing it would have to last a bit. "So what else did Greg have to say?" he asked quietly.

Stranger: Sherlock shrugged. "He sent me the information, which I forwarded to your phone, by the way. Then, after that, he just told me a million times to make sure I kept you safe."

You: "He worries," Mycroft said softly, smiling. "He didn't want me to go. Was terrified of losing me again." He pulled out his phone and checked over the information, one eyebrow quirking at the picture of the drug dealer. "Know him?" he asked Sherlock, turning his phone so his brother could see the picture.

Stranger: "He was the one I... uh, did the dealing with," Sherlock said quietly, looking back in his bag.

You: "So another pawn we have to deal with before this is over," Mycroft replied tiredly. "How many of these did Moriarty have, Sherlock? Do you have any idea?"

Stranger: "I thought only three-"

You: "All right, well, this is just another small detail," Mycroft said. "And a drug dealer should be fairly easy. Just stage him as an OD."

Stranger: "So we're doing two overdoses?" Sherlock asked, zipping his pack and standing.

You: Shrugging Mycroft grabbed his duffel and a new change of clothes out of it. "Why not?" he said. "Stage them together, make it look like they were testing a new shipment or a new drug or something."

Stranger: Sherlock sighed. "If that's what you want to do." Sherlock picked out a fresh pair of clothes as well and went into the kitchen. "Yell when you're done in there."

You: Mycroft snorted quietly and changed quickly. He was a little worried about Sherlock. He used to think that the day his brother allowed him to take charge over something without any complaint was the day he was dead. Worrying that the separation from John was breaking his brother, Mycroft tried to think of how he could bring him back. If at all.

Stranger: "Done yet?" Sherlock called from the kitchen. "By the way, don't use the kitchen!"

You: "Yes, I'm done," Mycroft called back before the rest of Sherlock's sentence percolated through his mind. "What? Why not?"

Stranger: Sherlock hurried back into the living room. "Just trust me. Just... gross..."

You: "I'll steer clear then," Mycroft said dryly. He stared at Sherlock as the man walked in and debated his next words carefully. "Sherlock, are you all right? Dealing ok with all this?" he asked.

Stranger: "I'm fine, Mycroft," Sherlock said, shoving the clothes back into his bag. "Why do you ask?"

You: "You're not bustling around in your usual arrogance," Mycroft explained. "You're actually letting me plan things without complaint. I'm worried about you, little brother."

Stranger: "Didn't you want me to include you?" Sherlock asked, confused.

You: "I did, yes," Mycroft said. "But you are acting very different from yourself. I'm used to you spinning plots and plans and strategies all without a second thought. Why aren't you doing that now?"

Stranger: "Because, I used to be able to do it and act them out without really much worry. Worst comes to worst, I get hurt or killed, not that big of a deal, the world goes on. But now it can be John's life, or Lestrade's or Mrs. Hudson's... If it's John, I'd also be killed and have to die. If it's Lestrade, you're going to kill me for not protecting him, and who knows what would happen to you... There's too much to risk and I... Need help..."

You: "Sherlock, I told you before caring was not an advantage," Mycroft said. "But I think I was wrong. I've found an amazing strength in the need to protect Greg. And admitting you need help is not a weakness either. I think we both realized that a little too late, hmm?"

Stranger: "I don't know... I don't like needing help, but I do. And I think you are the best person to help me... You have my manipulative brain." Sherlock smirked.

You: "I'm older, you have mine," Mycroft joked, moving to press a hand onto Sherlock's shoulder in support. "So, we following the sniper today?"

Stranger: "That's the plan. Day shift today, see where he goes." Sherlock said, replacing his pack. "But this time, please don't go following by yourself. You scared Lestrade."

You: "I thought you were following me," Mycroft said testily. "And you told him? Why would you do that?" He moved to the window first this time, carefully moving to the ledge and then to the ladder.

Stranger: "He asked." Sherlock shrugged, following close behind Mycroft, surprised he went first.

You: "Don't tell him anything else like that," Mycroft said tightly, working his way down the ladder. "Greg worries enough as it is. I don't want him terrified for me." He made it to the bottom and waited for Sherlock to reach the ground before setting off to the sniper's house.

Stranger: "He's a good boyfriend, worrying so much about you." Sherlock chuckled. "I won't have to tell him things like that if you don't do them. He only asked, so I felt I needed to answer him."

You: Mycroft slanted a dry look at Sherlock but didn't reply, pulling his phone out to send a quick "Good morning" to Greg. He slid the phone back without waiting for an answer and automatically stopped behind the same dumpster they had hid behind the night before when they reached the sniper's flat.

Stranger: "Your phone is on silent, right?" Sherlock asked, touching Mycroft's shoulder to get his attention. "Or at least on vibrate?"

You: "No," Mycroft replied slightly guiltily. He pulled the phone back out and put it on vibrate just as a text came in. He checked and saw it was from Anthea. "Whatever we're going to do, we need to do it fast," Mycroft said. "Srechko has plans to leave the country in 3 days."

Stranger: "Does she know to where?" Sherlock asked quietly.

You: Mycroft read more of the text and replied, "Switzerland. Apparently he has a job soon."

Stranger: Sherlock let out his breath in a huff. "Well, let's see if we can follow him today, tomorrow night we'll take out the dealer, and the next day we'll kill Srechko."

You: "Excellent plan," Mycroft said, no sarcasm in his voice. "Although if we see an opportune moment today, I think we should take it." He pressed back further into the wall when the tenement building's door opened and Srechko walked out. They waited until he was about twenty feet ahead of him before following silently.

Stranger: Sherlock, after following him for a while, nudged Mycroft and pointed at the man's back pocket. An envelope was sticking out of it just slightly.

You: Mycroft nodded at Sherlock then tilted his head. He knew he wasn't very good at picking pockets but Sherlock did on a regular basis.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded then slipped into the shadows of a alleyway. He made his way, at a run, up to where Srechko would be passing by soon, hiding in the shadows against a wall he couldn't see. As he passed, Sherlock dropped in a silent step behind him, snached the envelope, and ducked back into the shadows once more.

You: Continuing to follow the sniper, Mycroft waited until Sherlock made his way back to him. He looked at the envelope in his brother's hands and tilted his head silently again in question.

Stranger: Sherlock shrugged and pocketed the envelope. He didn't want to open it yet, fearing losing tail of Srechko.

You: Sighing tiredly, Mycroft stepped smoothly after the sniper and contented himself with glancing over at Sherlock from time to time. His brother had a very determined look on his face and suddenly, Mycroft could see the man who could kill someone with a broom handle to protect someone he cared for.

Stranger: Sherlock's hand suddenly shot out and pushed Mycroft into an alleyway, watching him fall and hit the ground. Sherlock hid right by the entrance to the ally, listening. "Who goes there?" Came a rough, long-term-smokers voice. Sherlock scrambled to grab Mycroft, basically picking him up in his arms, and running to hide behind a dumpster.

You: Mycroft huffed out a breath as Sherlock dragged him around, his ribs smarting from the fall. He looked around cautiously, wondering who had spoken. Though he knew that speaking right now was dangerous.

Stranger: "I know you're in there." Came the voice, closer to the alley, but not right on top of it yet. "In the dumpster." Sherlock hissed right into Mycroft's ear. Sherlock helped Mycroft stand and waited for him to get in the dumpster, Mycroft not moving.

You: Mycroft couldn't help but stare disdainfully at the dumpster before finally moving to crawl into it. He hunkered down below the lip with Sherlock, breathing as silently as he could and listening hard for the sound of anyone approaching.

Stranger: Sherlock gripped something long and hard, feeling like a plastic pipe. He was ready to attack Srechko if he needed to, protect Mycroft. He heard the safety of a gun click off and his heart started racing.

You: "I know someone's there," a hoarse voice growled. "You might as well say something now and spare me the time to hunt you down. I'll let you die quicker that way."

Stranger: Sherlock instinctively found Mycroft's hand with his and took it, squeezing it tightly to reassure him. His grip on the pipe tightened as well, and he was ready to attack.

You: Footsteps walked down the alley, getting closer and closer to the dumpster they were hiding in. Mycroft felt Sherlock tense up beside him, the grip on his hand surprisingly comforting. The footsteps paused right next to the dumpster and Mycroft could hear heavy breathing before they moved on.

Stranger: Sherlock held his breath, listening to the footsteps pace the alley. They paused outside the dumpster again, and the sound of him leaning on it sounded.

You: "Getting too jumpy," the gravelly voice murmured. "Seeing things because I keep thinking someone's after me." The voice chuckled sardonically and then the footsteps moved up further out of the alley. Mycroft took a deep breath and let it out silently.

Stranger: Sherlock squeezed his hand again to let him know to stay down. They waited a few minutes with no noise so Sherlock figured he could risk a whisper. "I'm going to peek outside, don't move."

You: Mycroft nodded and held his breath in anticipation as Sherlock slowly eased his way up to look over the lip. He waited silently, hoping not to hear an angry shout or the crack of a gunshot.

Stranger: Sherlock looked around the alley with no sigh of Srechko or anyone at all. "Safe." Sherlock hissed down, then opened the lid all the way, climbing out before turning to help Mycroft down.

You: Mycroft jumped to the ground and couldn't help but smile as he saw a stray banana peel on Sherlock's shoulder. He picked it off using two fingers and tossed it back into the dumpster. "I think we lost him again," Mycroft whispered. "What do you want to do now?"

Stranger: "Well, we know where the dealer is..." Sherlock said, putting his hands on his hips and looking around. "Should we take some time to follow him? See if he's protected as he was when I saw him?"

You: "Fine," Mycroft nodded. "But remember, we only have three days. Then we lose Srechko."

Stranger: "I know... but what good is wasted time?" Sherlock countered, starting out of the alley after making sure it was clear.

You: Mycroft could only chuckle and follow after Sherlock. He wondered where this dealer was that Sherlock had met and what protections he had. "Can you tell me what you saw last time you met him?" Mycroft asked curiously.

Stranger: "There was a big man in the corner of the room. It was dark so it was harder to make out his features, but what wasn't hard to make out was the big gun he had in his hands. Otherwise it was just me and the dealer in a small, underground room." Sherlock explained in a hushed whisper, not wanting to be overheard. "I came out of the same door you said Srechko came out of."

You: "Interesting," Mycroft mused. "Too bad you couldn't take John's gun without him noticing. It would have come in handy in this situation." He thought for several moments as they walked to the part of town they had followed Srechko to the night before. "What if I work on distracting the guard while you deal with the dealer?"

Stranger: "No," Sherlock said quickly, snapping to Mycroft. "We will wait till the dealer is alone. You are not dealing with someone with a gun when you have had no training."

You: Conceding, because it was logical, Mycroft tried to think of ways to get the guard to leave the room. Perhaps a fake fire? "So what is your plan once he's alone?" he wondered.

Stranger: "Knock him out and overdose him myself. Should be easy, seeing he is a drug dealer and surely has stashes of drugs in that room." Sherlock made his way into an alleyway to cut through part of the town. "Should be easy enough and will also look like a mistake he did to himself. Almost impossible to track back to us."

You: "Excellent, though we are starting to run a little thin on accidental death scenarios. Maybe I should have Anthea make a list," Mycroft said, smiling at Sherlock.

Stranger: "I think she can do that," Sherlock smiled back. "Maybe she can look up some online? I'm sure our minds are looking over some due to nerves."

You: Mycroft let loose a warm laugh, surprised and happy to have the easy relationship with Sherlock back. He pulled out his phone, saw that he had another text from Greg that he returned happily, and texted Anthea.

Stranger: "You are watching where you use that thing, right, Mycroft?" Sherlock said, looking at the device perched in Mycroft's fingers.

You: "Yes, yes," Mycroft replied. "I don't want it stolen and I'm not going to ruin our undercover work."

Stranger: Sherlock smirked and turned back to look ahead of himself again. The smirk stayed on his face as he wound his way through the alleys with Mycroft following next to him.

You: "What are you smiling at?" Mycroft asked testily, putting his phone away.

Stranger: Sherlock looked at him, then, wordlessly, he shook his head and took the smirk off his face.

You: "What were you just thinking?" Mycroft continued. "It's not often I see a full-blown smirk on your face."

Stranger: "You texting Lestrade like that..." Sherlock said slowly, smirking slightly again. "You looked so happy to get a text from him... I was just thinking about when I'm going to be able to text John again... Will he have the same stupid grin on his face like you did?" The smirk left after a few moments of silence.

You: "Most likely," Mycroft nodded, smiling at Sherlock. "You love him as much as he loves you, I think, and you already enjoy texting him. Think of how you'll feel if he randomly texts you just to say hello?"

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and thought about it, but refused to let the smile creep up on his face again. He wanted to get serious for the task at hand. Mycroft had no prior training in dealing with guns. He was no John.

You: Seeing the same street and doorway that they had found last night, Mycroft slowed down to determine the best way to find out if the dealer was inside. "I think you should try to go back to him for more information," Mycroft said slowly. "That way, you can make sure he's there and whether he's alone."

Stranger: "The only way he would let me back in and not have that guard shoot me," Sherlock said, leaning against the wall to look at Mycroft. "Would be if I was to go in to deal more drugs and look totally different from how I do now."

You: "So what do you suggest?" Mycroft asked curiously. "I don't think I look much like a junkie craving a fix."

Stranger: "And I do?" Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow.

You: "He already knows you and that's not what I meant," Mycroft said. "I meant that I don't think I would make a good second choice to go in there."

Stranger: It's fine. I wasn't talking about you, anyway." Sherlock waved it off, looking around. "I just need to look... different. A lot different. This man isn't an idiot."

You: "The easiest way to do that would be a change of clothes and a wig," Mycroft said. "I don't know this area well. Are there any secondhand clothing shops nearby?"

Stranger: "I'm sure," Sherlock said, starting out onto the street and going to opposite way of the dealer. "Besides, didn't you want more clothes like those for Lestrade to have some fun with." Sherlock smirked.

You: "I think I'm going to stay silent on that score," Mycroft said, smiling to himself. He walked after Sherlock and spotted the tiny shop a moment before Sherlock did. He pointed it out and they walked in.

Stranger: "I'll go look for the clothes. I want you to find a wig that looks -very- opposite to what my hair as Sherlock looks, or as Dean. Can you do that?" Sherlock asked, starting to pick through the clothes rack.

You: "Of course," Mycroft replied, turning away to look through the small selection of wigs. While Sherlock found clothes, Mycroft picked out two likely-looking wigs. One was red with short and spiky hair while the other was blond dreadlocks. He held them both out to his brother as Sherlock walked back to him.

Stranger: "I'll try the red one first..." Sherlock said slowly, eyeing the dreadlocks weirdly. He went into the changing room and changed into a white shirt and black hoodie zip-up jacket with ripped gray jeans that had zippers for the pockets. He slipped on the wig and looked himself over. He put on a dark pair of shades he had found and walked out of the changing room to show Mycroft. "And?"

You: "You look nothing like you," Mycroft told him after staring at Sherlock for several silent moments. "If I met you on the street, I probably wouldn't look twice at you."

Stranger: Sherlock raised his eyebrows and looked down on himself. "I think we're good then." Sherlock smiled and went back in to change back.

You: Mycroft waited at the register and paid for the clothes before Sherlock could. At his brother's questioning and annoyed glance, Mycroft merely shrugged. "Happy birthday," he finally said, for the benefit of the confused clerk.

Stranger: Sherlock shook his head and followed Mycroft out of the store, heading across the street to a bathroom to change into his new self. He came out and re-joined with Mycroft, handing him the bag.

You: "So let's get this over with," Mycroft said, a coil of tension threading through him. He knew how much danger they were both in right now and had no idea how to resolve it quickly.

Stranger: Sherlock led the way back to the dealer. They paused in the alley before Sherlock went. "Look, if I get shot, -don't- come in after me." Sherlock said pointedly. "I want you to call Lestrade, get his team down here, and find the last two snipers with them." Sherlock swallowed before waiting for Mycroft's answer. "If they find out it's really me... I want you to take Lestrade, John and Mrs. Hudson into hiding, and I want you to go with them."

You: "I can't just leave you here," Mycroft argued. "Not without trying to do something to help. And its a given that if something goes wrong, I'll keep them safe."

Stranger: "Do -not- come in after me, Mycroft. You got that?!" Sherlock growled.

You: "And what if by doing so, I can save you?" Mycroft snapped. "You would rather let them hurt or even kill you rather than be grateful to your older brother?"

Stranger: "I'd rather be dead than have you come in after me, get hurt, and have John, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson all dead as well." Sherlock growled. "I'm not worth it!"

You: Mycroft nodded sadly and looked into Sherlock's eyes. "You are important," he said quietly. "And I'm not going to lose you now when we are almost halfway to getting you back to John."

Stranger: "Tell me you won't come in after me." Sherlock said, bothering his lip. "Promise me."

You: "Fine, I promise," Mycroft said, regretting it immediately. "But I am going to be waiting outside."

Stranger: "Fine..." Sherlock sighed, knowing it couldn't get any better with his brother. "I'm going to go in then."

You: Mycroft nodded tightly and slouched against the wall. He watched as Sherlock knocked on the door.

Stranger: The door opened and Sherlock entered wordlessly. He sat at the table again and the light flickered on.

You: "Do I know you?" the drug dealer, who always thought of himself as Kev, asked. "Because most people don't get in here unless I know them."

Stranger: "Nah, I'm new around here." Sherlock said, dropping his voice a few octaves. "Looking for somewhere to get a quick fix." He quoted his brother.

You: "Did someone recommend you to me?" Kev asked suspiciously.

Stranger: "There was word." Sherlock shrugged. "People talk."

You: "That they do," Kev agreed. "Then there should have been a codeword mentioned in there somewhere. Just so I know it's safe to deal with you."

Stranger: "Indeed there was," Sherlock nodded, smirking. "I believe it was 'smoke-shadow'?"

You: At the words, Kev relaxed and smiled widely at Sherlock. He didn't ask for a name nor did he want one. "So what are you looking for? I've got everything from X to heroine."

Stranger: Sherlock thought for a fraction of a second, noting the man in the corner. Would it be possible to just finish it here? Without putting Mycroft into danger? "Give me your strongest," Sherlock decided on something. "Injection, if possible."

You: "That would be the cocaine then," Kev nodded. "And injection? Gonna be flying high tonight, ain't ya?" He laughed and dug around in the packets lined up neatly in the drawers behind him. "You gonna be needing the needle too?" he asked, holding out a small bag filled with white powder.

Stranger: "You have any?" Sherlock asked, inclining his head as he took the bag.

You: "Of course, man," Kev laughed again then had to spend a few moments catching his breath as he hacked wetly. "This is a one-stop-drug-shop. I got everything you need to feel good."

Stranger: "Than can I grab a few needles? A friend or two may be coming by later as well." Sherlock smirked at the tone in Kev's voice.

You: "You got it," Kev leaned over again and grabbed four, placing them in a plastic bag. "That little bit gonna be enough for you?" he continued, nodding at the small bag Sherlock held.

Stranger: "Should be. Still have some left over from the last town." Sherlock stood and took the needles. He placed the bag on the table and walked around to Kev, holding out his hand, intending for him to take it. As soon as he did, Sherlock, hands free, punched him clean in the face, knocking him to the floor, out cold. He quickly punched the light out and was surrounded in darkness. He heard gunfire from the far corner and got on the ground, making his way over to the shooter. Kicking him in the balls and taking his gun in a swift movement, Sherlock took no time at all to knock him out with the barrel of the gun and locked it.

You: Mycroft heard the shot ring out inside the room and jerked upright. He debated with himself angrily, reminding himself of the promise he'd made Sherlock. When no further sounds came from the room, Mycroft relaxed fractionally and decided to wait a bit more before bursting in.

Stranger: Sherlock pulled out his phone and worked quickly in its light. He looked through a few more drawers, pulling out other bags of cocaine. He quickly injected the dealer with at least three bags and did the same with the guard. He knew it was a bit much, but he couldn't risk it otherwise. He opened the door and went over to where he left Mycroft.

You: "Everything went well, I trust?" Mycroft asked tersely, his jaw clenched with anger and worry. He looked Sherlock over quickly, noticing no blood or cuts.

Stranger: "As well as it could have. Injected them with three bags of cocaine each. Think that'll be enough?" Sherlock asked, leaning against the wall for support as his legs gave a warning shake.

You: "Depends on the size of the bag and how much was in each, of course," Mycroft said quietly. "But it should do the job. Are you all right?" He noticed Sherlock leaning against the wall heavily and his hands trembling.

Stranger: "Yeah just... gunshots were... way too close to hitting." Sherlock breathed, leaning his head back against the wall.

You: "You're lucky," Mycroft snapped. "Did you really have to do it now? When he had a guard in there with him? What if you had been shot?"

Stranger: "I didn't want to have to drag you into danger later," Sherlock explained slowly. "I'm not worth it, remember? I was in danger anyway."

You: "You really need to stop saying that," Mycroft growled. "You have a serious inferiority complex to go with your superiority complex, don't you?" Mycroft took a deep breath and, when he saw that Sherlock had stopped shaking, pushed off the wall. They started walking down the street, moving as if they had somewhere important to be.

Stranger: "I'm sorry." Sherlock muttered as they turned a corner. He licked his lips. "I was trying to protect you."

You: "Thank you for that," Mycroft nodded at him. "But you don't always have to sacrifice yourself to protect the people around you. Sometimes they are capable of protecting themselves. What do you want to do now? Head back to the flat we were in?"

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and followed Mycroft back to the flat. They climbed into the window, Sherlock after Mycroft, and Sherlock sat down on the 'sofa'.

You: Mycroft grabbed the water out of Sherlock's bag and took a few sips. He handed it to Sherlock and waited to make sure his brother drank it. Mycroft recognized the signs of shock setting in and wanted to make sure Sherlock had at least something to drink. "You should sleep," he said fondly. "Been a long day for both of us."

Stranger: "If you want to sleep first, I'll take first watch," Sherlock started, beginning to get up.

You: "Sit down and sleep," Mycroft said. "I'm not tired yet. And you look like you're about to drop now that the adrenaline's worn off. You'll be fine for a while, Sherlock. Go to sleep."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and laid down. He kept his legs up as Mycroft occupied the end of the couch.

You: Mycroft waited until he was sure Sherlock was actually going to sleep then slid off the end of the couch. He sat with his back against it and pulled out his phone again. You busy, love? - MH he texted to Greg.

Stranger: Not really. Slow day over at the office. About to leave in a little while. What's up? -GL

You: Watching Sherlock sleep after some... adventures with a drug dealer. It wasn't that interesting so I decided to talk to you. - MH

Stranger: Lucky me. -GL

You: I would think lucky me. I enjoy talking to you. - MH

Stranger: I'm glad. I miss you over here, when are you coming back? -GL

You: Well, the sniper is leaving in three days for a job in Switzerland. So that's our window of opportunity. Hopefully, I can come back to you sooner than that. - MH

Stranger: Just be careful, please. The drug dealer didn't hurt you did he? Or Sherlock? -GL

You: No, Sherlock wouldn't even allow me to go in with him. And Sherlock's fine. I checked him over carefully. But we don't have to worry about that particular strand of Moriarty's web anymore. - MH

Stranger: I don't want you telling details to me, that way I don't have to arrest you, love. But what happened? -GL

You: Let's just say that Molly is probably going to be autopsying a couple of OD's in the next few days. - MH

Stranger: That's deniable enough. At least they can't trace it back to you -GL

You: There's not even any evidence of me in that room. You don't have to worry about this part, love. And how has your day been? Chasing criminals down back alleys? - MH

Stranger: Lol no. All desk work today. Boring if you ask me. This is why I'm so fat lol. -GL

You: You aren't fat, Greg. And I love how you look which I believe I've proved to you. And can't wait to do again. - MH

Stranger: I love you, Mycroft. -GL

You: I love you too, Greg. Sometimes I'm amazed at how much. - MH

Stranger: Want to explain? -GL

You: Explain what? I'm not sure what you mean. - MH

Stranger: Why you're amazed at how much you love me? -GL

You: Because I spent most of my adult life pushing emotions away. I'm sure you've heard the nickname people have given me. I believed that caring and emotions were not useful things to have. - MH

Stranger: Well, either way, I care a lot about you, Mycroft. And I have a lot of emotions for you. I don't care if they aren't useful, I love having them, and I love they are for you. -GL

You: I feel the same way, Greg. I'm happy I feel this way for you. That you are able to draw these emotions out of me. - MH

Stranger: Why aren't you here?! I need you!! -GL

You: Because I'm busy trying to make sure you're safe love. Though I need you too. Wish you could be here with me. - MH

Stranger: Is Sherlock treating you well? -GL

You: Yeah, we're getting on. We're back to the same kind of relationship we had in Vancouver. It's a lot friendlier than the last several years have been. I honestly think he's soul-shatteringly lonely without John. - MH

Stranger: That's sad. Tell him John's able to go home in about a week. A doctor confirmed it yesterday. -GL

You: That sounds good. How is he holding up? I can't imagine this is easy on him. - MH

Stranger: He's... alive. I went in the visit him yesterday. Walked in on him bawling his eyes out. Muttering Sherlock's name. -GL

You: I feel so bad for both of them. I understand Sherlock's reasoning and after last night, I am on board with it. But this is still difficult. How do you stand by with the knowledge that could save a good man? - MH

Stranger: I ask myself that every time I see John... Especially that day we went to the bar. He was crying and sobbing and drinking and just... god the pain in those eyes... -GL

You: Probably the same pain I see in Sherlock's when he goes away into his mind. Even now, when he's sleeping, he has a look like he's fighting something in his dreams. - MH

Stranger: Is there anything I can do to get Sherlock back faster? It's killing me to see John in pain... -GL

You: Just what we've been doing. If you can get any more information on Sebastian Moran? Anthea has been looking as hard as she can and still getting nowhere. We have his past but his present is a blank slate. - MH

Stranger: I'll do a database search tomorrow. I'm actually walking to visit John right now. See where this talk has gotten me? -GL

You: I'm sorry, love. I have an idea how hard this is for you. Will you give John my regards? - MH

Stranger: Of course, babe. I still have a while till the hospital... -GL

You: All right. What are your plans for tonight? Just so I can keep you talking for a little bit more. - MH

Stranger: Well, now they include going to visit John... Then probably home and maybe a movie? -GL

You: What kind of movies do you like? We never really discussed things like movies or music. - MH

Stranger: All kinds, really. Action, romance... Mystery are my favorite. -GL

You: Really? Don't you get enough of mystery in your job? I would think you'd hate mysteries. - MH

Stranger: No, they're interesting all the same. Different. I just can't try to solve them. -GL

You: And I'm guessing the fact that they get all wrapped up neat and tidy in the end doesn't hurt, right? - MH

Stranger: Nope, very painless. What about you? -GL

You: I tend to like actions and horror. Things that don't make you think very hard since I do that pretty much all my waking minutes. - MH

Stranger: Horrors are good... We need to see one together sometime, a movie, I mean. What's your favorite movie? -GL

You: I don't have a specific favorite, there are so many I enjoy. But one of them is Constantine. Action and a bit of horror all mixed in one. And I'd love to see a movie with you. - MH

Stranger: I've never seen it. I'll go out, buy it, and we'll watch it as soon as you get back. Maybe I'll even pull out one of my favorites if we're still up to another movie after. -GL

You: Sounds perfect. What's one of your favorite movies? - MH

Stranger: I have a shelf full back at home. Like you said, I don't have just one. -GL

You: We'll watch the whole shelf. I love you. - MH

Stranger: If we're going to do that, I hope you have more than just one favorite. Give me a list. I love you too. <3 -GL

You: I do. But the list is far too long for a text message. Just be prepared for cheesy action scenes and gore galore. - MH

Stranger: As long as I get to cuddle up to you the whole time. -GL

You: I insist on it, love. Need to have someone to hold and to hold me at the scariest bits. - MH

Stranger: Aww, you get scared? -GL

You: Sometimes, yes. I like that bit about scary movies but I do like having someone there with me. - MH

Stranger: I'll be there, my love. And what about music? -GL

You: I tend to like classical and instrumental, though I do have a fondness for classic rock. What about you? - MH

Stranger: I tend to listen to pop and rock mostly. Hip-hop sometimes... My Ipod is even filled with stupid comedy podcasts. -GL

You: Comedy podcasts? Now that is something I need to see. Wouldn't have pegged you to listen to those. - MH

Stranger: Well, when you tend to live alone, you need something to laugh about. -GL

You: I completely understand. I have an embarrassingly large collection of comedies sitting next to my action and horror movies. - MH

Stranger: That shouldn't be embarrassing, love. It's cute. -GL

You: Thanks. Sometimes I just need the ability to let go and laugh and those movies let me. I've always felt it to be a bit of a weakness. - MH

Stranger: That's really cute, baby. You don't have to hide anything from me. I won't laugh if you don't want me to. <3 -GL

You: Thanks, love. It feels wonderful to be able to share everything with someone. Are you at the hospital? - MH

Stranger: Just down the block from it. Did you need to go? -GL

You: No but I thought you might. I don't think John would appreciate you being distracted by me. - MH

Stranger: Point taken... I'll text you later, my love. Please. Do be very careful. And remember, if you guys need help, I'm a phone call away. -GL

You: Talk to you soon, Greg. Take care of yourself and John. Love you. - MH

Stranger: Love you too, Mycroft. -GL

You: Mycroft smiled happily and put his phone away again. Talking with Greg always filled him with warmth and he hated that he had to stop talking to him. Looking up at Sherlock, Mycroft could see that he was still deeply asleep and not likely to wake up for a while. He went back to creating hypothetical international incidents and solving them while the sun crept over the floor.

Stranger: Sherlock woke up as the sun poked at his eyes. He blinked the sleep away and looked over at Mycroft. "My-Mycroft?" He asked slowly, sitting up.

You: "Good afternoon, Sherlock," Mycroft greeted his brother tiredly. "Sleep well?"

Stranger: "Yeah... How long did I sleep for?" Sherlock asked, sitting up.

You: "About six hours," Mycroft said. "It's just gone 3."

Stranger: "Oh, I'm sorry... You should have woken me. Now you can only get four hours... I'm sorry..." Sherlock said, sitting up and standing off the couch.

You: "It's all right," Mycroft said. "You looked like you needed the rest." Mycroft stood stiffly and waited for Sherlock to get up off the couch.

Stranger: "Thank you." Sherlock said sheepishly, watching Mycroft take the couch. "Night then."

You: Mycroft stretched out on the couch and pulled his duffel bag up under his head. He sighed and replied, "Good night, Sherlock. And please don't run off without me. Wake me up in four hours."

Stranger: "I will," Sherlock promised then sat down against the wall where his brother had been moments ago.

You: Mycroft slipped into a deep sleep, smiling lightly to himself when he remembered his conversation with Greg. He completely relaxed against the cushions and, though he would vehemently deny it, snored.

\---------------------------------------------

Stranger: Lestrade knocked on the hospital door as he walked in and saw John in a ball on the bed, crying slightly. "John?" He asked softly.

You: John recoiled and swiped a hand over his eyes. He swallowed heavily several times and was rather proud when his voice broke only a little bit when he said, "Hello, Greg."

Stranger: "How are you... How are you feeling?" Lestrade asked, taking a step into the room.

You: "Tired," John answered honestly. "And bored. There's only so much internet surfing I can do. And it's only been one day."

Stranger: "I know... can I sit?" Lestrade asked, feeling like he needed to.

You: "Of course," John said, gesturing at the hospital chair. He didn't know if Lestrade had read the note he'd left but he thought he might have, going by the formality.

Stranger: "I got the note..." Lestrade tried to smile, avoiding John's eyes. "I'm sorry..."

You: "You shouldn't be," John said quietly, sorrow twisting in his belly. "I'm the one who's sorry. I really do love you as a friend and I'm so sorry I tried to use you to replace him."

Stranger: "I'm sorry I didn't do a better job of it," Lestrade let out a dry laugh. "I'm guessing you heard though, I'm back with Mycroft..."

You: "I did," John admitted. "And I'm happy for you. You deserve someone who makes you happy. And don't feel bad about this. It was never your fault or anything lacking in you."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded. "Well, for what it's worth, I loved you, John. And now, I'll love you as a friend. Just hope you don't find anything between us awkward."

You: John sighed and scrubbed a hand over his face. "I was hoping this wouldn't ruin the friendship between us. I can't say it enough, I'm so sorry. And I won't be awkward if you won't." He tried to smile at Lestrade and felt it stretch his face.

Stranger: "I'm fine about the whole thing. I understand where your heart lies. Mine lies with Mycroft, we all have those people who just... catch our hearts and won't let go for the life of us." Lestrade smiled. "Nothing is ruined. If anything, I think it got us over our awkwardness from the bar."

You: John choked out a laugh, surprised he was still able to. The tension in the room lowered noticeably and Lestrade joined in after a few moments. Catching his breath, John looked at Lestrade and said, "Thank you. For saving me. I've found that... I really do want to live.... I want to clear his name. Show the world the genius that they spurned."

Stranger: "How are you going to do that? Can I help at all?" Lestrade asked, leaning on John's bed to stretch his back.

You: "I have no idea," John said sadly. "All I know for sure is what I feel. And I know Sherlock wasn't a fake."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded again. "Just.. no more trying to kill yourself. Please. Every time I find you, you scare the crap out of me. You promised me you weren't going to leave me, and I want the promise kept, even now that we're done."

You: "The first time I ended up here was an accident," John said. "But yes, I promise. And I am so sorry, Greg." He patted one of Lestrade's hands awkwardly, wondering how much contact was permitted between them now.

Stranger: Lestrade turned his hand over and caught John's, not twisting their fingers together, but just holding on in a friendly squeeze. "It's fine. Just be careful." Lestrade smiled at John.

You: "Of course," John squeezed Lestrade's hand once then released the pressure. He didn't let go, needing some sort of contact to ground him. "Do you... think maybe Mycroft could help? I know he had Moriarty locked up somewhere for a while."

Stranger: "He's currently... out of town on international business," Lestrade rolled his eyes. "I'm sure he'll try to help when he gets back."

You: "Good. I think this will probably only work with his help," John said musingly. "He has as much information on Moriarty as anyone does."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded, smiling. "Let me know if there is anything I can do." Lestrade looked around the room for a moment, still holding John's hand, Mycroft's words echoing in his mind, his voice clear, even though it was a text. 'How can you stand by with the knowledge that can save a good man?'

You: "You look like you're thinking very hard," John said softly. He squeezed Lestrade's hand again and continued, "You know I'm here if you need help too, right?"

Stranger: "I know... thank you... It's just something Mycroft said, it's ringing in my head and I know it's right... but you never know how right till you face it, you know?" Lestrade shrugged.

You: "Kind of," John agreed. "Well, if you ever need to talk, I'm stuck here for another 6 days or so."

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled and looked down. "I'll try to remember that." He laughed.

You: John moved on to lighter topics, keeping the conversation flowing in the room. It was easy, just talking with Lestrade, and he very much enjoyed it.

Stranger: After at least an hour had easily passed, Lestrade glanced at his watch and gasped. It had been four hours and was almost eleven at night. 'And we're still holding hands...' Lestrade thought, but made no move to take his hand out of John's.

You: "Guess this does mean our friendship isn't ruined," John laughed, looking at the clock hanging on the wall. He looked down at their still joined hands and then back up at Lestrade. "Thank you," he whispered.

Stranger: Lestrade squeezed John's hand tightly and smiled. "You're welcome. I'll come back tomorrow after work if you'd like? Bring dinner by, maybe? I can't see the food here is all too great."

You: "That sounds good," John said. "You're right, the food here is kind of awful. Bring whatever you want tomorrow. See you then, Greg." He smiled one last time before the meds and exhaustion overwhelmed him and he yawned.

Stranger: Lestrade stood, finally letting go of John's hand. He watched John close his eyes and couldn't help but lean down and awkwardly hug the man.

You: "Good night, Greg," John murmured, hugging back tiredly. It felt good but a little strange. His arms dropped back to the bed and he fell into a dreamless sleep.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled and left the hospital. Going back to his flat, he took a quick shower, then headed to bed. The movie was way out of the question as the clock struck midnight, so instead, Lestrade fell into a sleep filled of dreams of Mycroft.

\----------------------------------------------------------

You: Mycroft woke groggily as a hand shook his shoulder. He looked up into Sherlock's face and sighed. "Time to get up already?" he asked.

Stranger: "Hour past it, actually. I let you sleep a little more," Sherlock tried to smile and he rocked back onto his heels.

You: "Thank you for that," Mycroft smiled back, blinking sleep from his eyes. He sat up and took a drink from the little bit of water they had remaining. "So, getting in place for Srechko's nightly 1am jaunt?"

Stranger: "I'm thinking we try to scope out the building this time. Try to find a way in and all." Sherlock said, standing using Mycroft's knee to support himself.

You: Nodding, Mycroft waited until Sherlock stood before standing himself. "Two days," he reminded both of them. "But if we can't find an opportune moment this time, we can always find him again. Now that Anthea has a tag on him, we'll always be able to follow him."

Stranger: "Perfect. But I want to avoid having to re-find him." Sherlock laughed a little.

You: "I feel the same way," Mycroft said dryly. He grabbed another change of clothes out of his bag and realized that he would have to re-wear clothes or find some way to wash them. "You might want to change too," he suggested, seeing Sherlock in the same clothes he'd been in earlier.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and grabbed a clean pair of clothes. "I guess I'll.... take the kitchen again," He said coldly.

You: "You don't have to," Mycroft said. "I'm willing to change in there even if it means chancing my health." He laughed again, wondering what was wrong with Sherlock. Wondering why he was acting so coldly.

Stranger: Sherlock sighed. "Be my guest..." He waved doubtfully towards the kitchen.

You: Mycroft walked into the kitchen and blanched at the colonies of... something growing in the sink. He retreated to the farthest corner and changed quickly, now understanding why Sherlock was a little terrified of this room. Really, it was Darwinism in action right there.

Stranger: "See what I mean?" Sherlock asked, when Mycroft hurried out of the other room looking like he was slightly green.

You: "I do," Mycroft shuddered. "I'm willing to forgo modesty a bit to avoid changing in that room again. I'm actually a little worried about staying in here now. What if that... thing grows legs and decides to eat us?"

Stranger: Sherlock couldn't help but laugh. "'Grows legs and decides to eat us'? Really Mycroft?" He howled in laughter.

You: Mycroft laughed as well and said, "I swear I saw that thing growing bigger while I changed. Who knows what it's become?" He doubled over with laughter now, breath panting.

Stranger: Sherlock leaned against the wall for support. He couldn't help but think of John, all the times he had him against the wall with laughter. It was all too much. Tears streamed his eyes as he laughed so hard, part not from the laughter.

You: Slowly, Mycroft caught his breath and straightened up. He could hear a slightly hysterical edge to Sherlock's laughter and studied him closely. "What's wrong?" Mycroft asked softly.

Stranger: Sherlock caught his breath and brushed the tears away, trying to push the pain down and the tears that were trying to break through with it. "Nothing." He muttered, still brushing his eyes.

You: "Sherlock, it's ok to let go sometimes," Mycroft said gently, moving to fold Sherlock into a hug. "You don't have to hold everything in. You'll only go mad."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and tried to push the emotion farther down, but Mycroft's words poked him. He folded into Mycroft's arms and cried, pathetically, onto Mycroft's shoulder.

You: Mycroft simply held Sherlock, not offering any words of comfort. He knew words weren't what Sherlock needed right now. They rocked gently back and forth, Mycroft rubbing soothing circles on Sherlock's back.

Stranger: Sherlock pieced himself back together and sat up with a deep breath. He brushed his hands over his eyes and avoided Mycroft's glare he could feel on his skin.

You: "I won't push you right now," Mycroft said. "But I think you need to talk eventually."

Stranger: "After we get done tonight... maybe we can?" Sherlock asked, feeling his face redden.

You: "Sure," Mycroft said easily. "I'm ready to go whenever you are." He stood from the couch and stretched, feeling his back pop.

Stranger: Sherlock stood and made his way out the window, heading towards the ladder. He waited for Mycroft to come.

You: Mycroft made his way down the ladder, finally starting to become comfortable with the height. He dropped down the last foot and waited for Sherlock to take off as he normally did.

Stranger: Sherlock quickly made his way to the building of Srechko, glancing at his watch, he sat against the wall behind the dumpster. "We have 30 minutes."

You: Mycroft nodded and leaned against the wall, telling himself not to pull out his phone again. It was too easy for someone to see and decide they wanted it. He silently ticked down the seconds, writing drafts of several speeches for politicians in his head.

Stranger: As Sherlock sat, waiting silently for Srechko to exit the building, he thought back to John, memories flooding him. He played with the edge of his shirt as he thought about them, lost in the past.

You: Footsteps caused Mycroft to look up and he saw the brown-haired sniper stalk out of the building. He turned the same way as the night before and disappeared into the night. "Ready?" Mycroft asked, standing straight again.

Stranger: Sherlock snapped from his thoughts, filing them back into his mind palace, and stood. He searched around and spotted a ladder that led to the roof. "There." He said, nudging Mycroft in front of him.

You: Mycroft looked up and shook his head. "We don't need to climb for this one," he said. "I saw that he lived on the first floor last night."

Stranger: "True as that may be, do you really think we can just go through the front door?" Sherlock asked, then pushed Mycroft to the ladder. "Go."

You: Mycroft climbed the ladder, getting to the second floor and waiting for Sherlock. "What now?" he asked sardonically.

Stranger: "All the way to the roof, Mycroft." Sherlock said, pushing him in the leg to keep going. "If I'm not mistaken, there will be a way into the staircase up there, which we can take down to the first floor."

You: Mycroft kept climbing, resolutely not looking down. Being a little easier about the height did not equal no more fear of heights. He climbed over the edge of the roof and caught his breath.

Stranger: "You good?" Sherlock asked, touching Mycroft's back gently.

You: "Yeah, just needed to catch my breath after that," Mycroft said, flashing a look of gratitude at Sherlock. "It takes a lot to convince myself I'm not actually afraid or going to fall."

Stranger: Sherlock wrapped an arm around Mycroft's shoulders. "You're okay."

You: Leaning into Sherlock for a moment, Mycroft could feel his pulse slowing. He dragged in a relieved breath and let it out in a nearly silent gust. "Thanks," he said. "This is way out of what I'm used to doing."

Stranger: "I know... Thank you for doing it..." Sherlock smiled. "I wouldn't have been able to do any of it without you..."

You: "You're welcome," Mycroft said, patting Sherlock's shoulder. "I don't like this happening anymore than you do. And once we're done with this, I'm going to clear your name."

Stranger: Sherlock smiled bigger as he let go of Mycroft's shoulders. "You will?"

You: "Of course," Mycroft told him, surprised. "It's partly my fault you are in this mess. And it's not fair to you for the world to think of you as a criminal and fraud."

Stranger: "Oh yeah, I forgot it was partly your fault," Sherlock said smiling, pushing Mycroft in the arm just enough to make him sway.

You: Catching his balance, Mycroft glared without any real heat at Sherlock then looked around the roof. He saw a door leading inside and pointed at it. "There's the door you were talking about," he said.

Stranger: Sherlock swept over to the door and looked it over. "Locked," He sighed, pulling out his lock-picking kit.

You: "You can pick locks?" Mycroft asked incredulously. "When did you pick that skill up?"

Stranger: "Remember when you started locking your room door when you were 17?" Sherlock smirked. "Trying to keep me out."

You: "And you kept coming in my room after that?" Mycroft sighed. "There were reasons I wanted you kept out."

Stranger: "Oh? What were they?" Sherlock asked, smiling up at Mycroft as he worked the lock.

You: "Never mind," Mycroft muttered, feeling a blush work its way up his cheeks and down his neck. He made a mental note not to lock anything up except in places he was sure Sherlock wouldn't look.

Stranger: "No, come on, tell me. Chances are I already saw them." Sherlock smiled.

You: "Then you already know what I'm going to say," Mycroft said primly. He glanced at the door and saw that Sherlock had stopped trying to pick the lock.

Stranger: "But I want to know now. What was it you were trying to hide from me?" Sherlock frowned.

You: Mycroft studied Sherlock's face and saw that he truly did want to know. "Love letters," Mycroft finally murmured. "To a girl I really liked. I never worked up the courage to send them to her."

Stranger: Sherlock thought for a moment. "Never saw them..." He finally said, turning back to working the lock. "Were they nice?"

You: "They were really sappy and kind of badly written," Mycroft admitted. "Half poem and half spilling my feelings for her. What did you see when you snooped in my room?"

Stranger: "I mostly read your books." Sherlock said slowly, trying to remember. "All the books teenagers were allowed to read that Mummy didn't want me seeing. Romance and mystery and adventure. I also sort of... read your diary." Sherlock blushed.

You: "Well, I'm not upset you read my books," Mycroft said. "But I'm a little upset you read my journal. Though surprised you never used any of it against me. I ranted a lot in there."

Stranger: Sherlock shrugged. "Some of it made me feel bad for you. All those girls you talked about... All the... rejection and whatnot. Also... it seemed like half of the thing was about me."

You: "I did complain about you a lot in writing," Mycroft chuckled. He chose to disregard the old pain that Sherlock's comment brought up. It was all very much in the past now. "When they invented the word precocious, I think they were thinking of you."

Stranger: Sherlock smiled and stood. He tested the door which all but flew open at his touch. "After you." He smiled.

You: Mycroft moved slowly inside and examined the stairwell. It looked to be fairly unused and the entire thing was echoingly empty.

Stranger: Sherlock followed Mycroft inside and gently touched his back, pointing down the stairs. Mycroft begun the trip down, Sherlock on his heels.

You: They crept carefully down and ignored the muffled sounds coming from behind the closed doors. Though one loud smack and a female scream caused Mycroft to look up in consternation at the door.

Stranger: Sherlock touched his back again to get his attention and shook his head sadly. "I don't think we should..." He whispered.

You: "You're probably right," Mycroft whispered sadly. He continued down to the first floor and tentatively tried the doorknob. Locked, of course.

Stranger: "Want me?" Sherlock asked in a whisper, holding up his lock-picking kit.

You: Mycroft waved at the door sourly, intending to have Greg teach him lockpicking at his earliest opportunity.

Stranger: "Greg doesn't know how," Sherlock said simply as he bent down in front of the door, starting on the lock.

You: "Well, would you be willing to teach me that trick sometime?" Mycroft asked, swallowing his pride. "I can see where it would come in handy."

Stranger: Sherlock looked up at Mycroft in surprise. "Sure..." He said slowly, smiling.

You: "Thank you," Mycroft said, listening to the soft snick of metal in the lock. With a final click, the lock popped open and Sherlock pushed the door in.

Stranger: Sherlock entered the flat slowly. "We have about twenty minutes until Srechko returns, based on the trip distance. Seeing Kevin is no longer alive, that's all the time we have." Sherlock said slowly, looking around.

You: "That's a very short time to search thoroughly," Mycroft muttered before moving into the bedroom. He left the living room for Sherlock to search and started to flip through the dresser drawers. In one, he found a similar envelope to the one Srechko had had the night before and opened it. It contained several pictures of Mrs. Hudson.

Stranger: Sherlock started going through a desk in the living room, fingering papers and other stacks on the desk table. He found a letter containing directions and a picture to kill some woman named Kiki Henderson.

You: After pocketing the envelope, Mycroft continued to search the room but found nothing more. He looked around the attached bathroom but found only the sniper's preferred brand of shampoo and shaving cream.

Stranger: Sherlock went over to a cabinet which was locked. He got down and quickly started working the lock, hearing Mycroft enter the room again.

You: "I'm fairly certain this is the sniper assigned to kill Mrs. Hudson," Mycroft said, pulling the envelope out of his pocket. "This has pictures of her but none of Greg or John."

Stranger: "Well, at least we know that then. Keep the envolope." Sherlock finished the lock and stood, turning the handle to open the cabnet.

You: Mycroft put the envelope back in his pocket and stooped to look into the cabinet Sherlock had just opened. A large array of guns, sights, and ammo met his eyes.

Stranger: "My god..." Sherlock muttered, looking over the array of weapons. He pulled out a couple of envelopes and opened then, all containing directions and pictures of people to kill, one of them was himself. He handed his envelope up to Mycroft to look at.

You: "It's frightening how much Moriarty knew about all of us," Mycroft murmured, staring at the envelope. Another caught his eye and he opened it to find his own face staring back at him.

Stranger: "The man did his research." Sherlock muttered, reading through one of Mrs. Hudson.

You: Mycroft picked up another envelope and caught his breath when he saw Greg's personal information and picture met his eyes. He stared at it for a moment, a sharp pang of loss shooting through him.

Stranger: Sherlock glanced up at Mycroft when he heard his breath hitch. "Mycroft? What's wrong?" He asked gently.

You: "Greg. He has Greg's picture and all his information," Mycroft said. "He's got his address and his work and his bloody license plate!"

Stranger: "Take the envelope. Take any envelope that connects to us. I just found one of John..." Sherlock said, holding up John's and pocketing it.

You: Mycroft searched through the remaining ones and found envelopes containing information on Anthea, Sally Donovan, and Anderson. He pocketed them as well and checked the time on his watch. "We need to get going," he said urgently.

Stranger: "Right," Sherlock said, standing and relocking the cabinet with ease. He pushed Mycroft out the door, locked if from the inside and shut it behind them. They quickly ran up the stairs and reached the roof in time to see Srechko enter the building.

You: "Cutting it a bit fine," Mycroft whispered. "Good thing we relocked everything and got out of there." He moved to the ladder and started down the rungs.

Stranger: Sherlock followed Mycroft down the ladder and back to their borrowed flat. Sherlock pulled out the envelopes he collected.

You: Mycroft did the same and studied the stack. "He had a lot of people on his list," he said, partially in awe and partially in fear. "He even got Anthea's real name."

Stranger: "He has John's phone number and even personal email address... Not the one on the site." Sherlock said, pulling out John's and reading it over.

You: "He didn't get even half of this from me," Mycroft said. "I never mentioned Anthea in his presence. And Donovan and Anderson? Why would he even care about them?"

Stranger: "Who knows. All I know is that I want this guy done for..." Sherlock said, hand shaking as he read through everything he had on John again.

You: "I feel the same," Mycroft growled. "He's impinging on my work and my personal life. I do not tolerate that." He shoved the papers back into the envelopes and sat fuming for a few moments.

Stranger: Sherlock moved over to Mycroft and sat next to him. "He won't get Lestrade, don't worry, he won't have a chance." Sherlock whispered, putting his hand on Mycroft's leg caringly.

You: "If he does, it will be my fault," Mycroft whispered. "I'm the one who gave Moriarty the information to turn you into a fraud. I can't lose him, Sherlock."

Stranger: "You won't." Sherlock said, wrapping his arm around Mycroft's shoulders and pulling him closer. "You won't lose him because we're going to kill him tomorrow."

You: Not able to fight it anymore, Mycroft allowed the tears to roll down his face. Frustration, fear, sorrow, and guilt roiled in his belly, adding to the tears rolling down his face.

Stranger: Sherlock, shocked to see Mycroft crying, pulled his head down onto his shoulder, folding Mycroft into his arms like he did him, and him he did John once before after John had woken from a nightmare.

You: Shaking with the force of his sobs, Mycroft slumped against Sherlock and cried until he couldn't see. Greg was foremost on his mind, the thought of losing him driving Mycroft mad with fear.

Stranger: "Mycroft, you're not going to lose Lestrade. If we lose Srechko when we're trying to kill him, we tell him and take John, Mrs. Hudson, Anderson, and Donovan all into hiding. They would all be safe till we hunted him down and killed him for good."

You: Slowly, the tears slowed down and Mycroft was able to take a deep breath again. He swiped a hand over his face and sat up straight, shaking his head. "Sorry," Mycroft said, his face red with embarrassment. "I didn't expect this to hit me so hard."

Stranger: "Mycroft, it's fine..." Sherlock said gently. "I know how you feel. I'm deadly scared of losing John, that's why I snap at you or... Do something that seems small and just stupidly annoying... I don't want to lose the man I love... The one guy I feel real around..." Sherlock said, bothering his bottom lip.

You: "It's your turn now," Mycroft offered. "You said you wanted to talk later. It's later." He turned on the couch they had managed to sit on during his crying jag and looked Sherlock in the eyes.

Stranger: Sherlock sighed. "When we were laughing earlier, as hard as we were, it all just reminded me of him. We used to laugh so hard we'd be forced against the wall. I miss his smile... I also miss the way he'd come home and complain about how he had a row with the cash register at the store. I miss his eyes and his voice and the way he'd yell at me for different body parts in the fridge. Every little stupid thing he did, I miss and love about him. When he so much as just licked his lips for no good reason, I love it. I love all his little habits and..." Sherlock swallowed hard, trying to force away the tears. "Now, what if I never get them... What if he kicks me out of the house for what I did... Or never wants to see me again. I really broke him... And... And..."

You: Mycroft gathered Sherlock into his arms again, seeing the tears glimmering in his eyes. "He won't send you away. He loves you and he will be overjoyed once your back."

Stranger: "What if he isn't? What if he moves on before then?" Sherlock asked through tears.

You: "Sherlock, he tried that," Mycroft reminded him. "And it obviously didn't work. You think he wants to move on from you? He tried to join you and only excellent timing stopped him."

Stranger: "What if he kills himself before I can get back to him then? Overdoses again and dies because no one found him. Blood loss and no one can help him...?"

You: "Greg and Molly will watch over him," Mycroft said soothingly. "And he's survived twice. I don't think John will try again. His life may be boring and dull but he will accept that."

Stranger: "What if... I die... Before I can get back to him..?" Sherlock asked in a whisper.

You: "You won't. I'm going to be here to make sure you stay safe," Mycroft replied. "And none of these snipers are as smart as either of us or us combined. They won't know what hit them."

Stranger: "But it's still an option... I could die..." Sherlock said, tears streaming his cheeks.

You: "You won't die," Mycroft repeated. "And thinking like that is self-defeating. You have to believe that you are going to finish this and go back to him."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded as another sob was pulled from him. He felt so weak and helpless as he cried.

You: Mycroft rubbed circles on Sherlock's back again, wondering if that was enough. He hadn't had a lot of experience in comforting people, or being comforted for that matter, and hoped it was enough.

Stranger: "Mycroft?" Sherlock asked quietly, feeling like he was a kid again.

You: "What is it, Sherlock?" Mycroft murmured, looking down at his brother.

Stranger: "Thank you," Sherlock murmured.

You: "You're welcome, little brother," Mycroft said fondly, hugging Sherlock closer to him.

Stranger: Sherlock sniffed and tried to pull himself back together, trying to hold back another sob that threatened to be pulled from him.

You: Mycroft sat and waited Sherlock out, trying to be as comforting as possible. He smiled gently as Sherlock looked up at him again. "Feeling better," he asked.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded, not trusting his voice to not betray him yet. He brushed his sleeve over his eyes, feeling them red and sore. He sniffed again, trying to pull himself back.

You: "I think that we can both handle sleeping at the same time," Mycroft suggested. "No one else has disturbed us. And we both need the sleep if we are going to deal with Srechko tomorrow."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and smiled weakly. "You can have the couch," Sherlock said, moving to the floor.

You: "Are you sure?" Mycroft asked. "You look like you need it more?" He gestured at the couch and looked at Sherlock, concerned for his little brother. Sherlock looked like a man on the edge of shattering.

Stranger: "I'm sure," Sherlock said, his voice more like his again. He sniffed again and smiled up at Mycroft. "Take it."

You: Mycroft nodded at him and laid down. He shoved his duffel bag at Sherlock, intending for him to use it as a pillow. After typing a quick Good Night to Greg, he dropped into a dreamless sleep.

Stranger: Sherlock took the duffel bag with a smile and shoved it against the wall. He lay down against it and crossed his hands over his chest. He slowly drifted off into a shallow sleep, making sure to keep it so at the slightest sound out of the ordinary, he would wake.

You: A few hours later, Mycroft woke gasping from a nightmare. He panted for a moment, his eyes adjusting to the darkness. When he banished the adrenaline panic, he couldn't help but chuckle at himself. It had been a long time since he'd had a nightmare. Then his ears caught the telltale squeal of metal on metal and a footstep sounded on the ledge outside.

Stranger: Sherlock snapped awake at the sound of Mycroft's gasp, then the metal on metal screech that came from outside. His head snapped over to Mycroft for a second before snapping to the window. His body went into action and he was quickly in front of Mycroft to protect him.

You: Mycroft swung his legs over the edge of the couch as quietly as he could and tensed himself in preparation to fight. He didn't know who was going to come through that window, or if anyone would, but they probably wouldn't mean any good to them. He stifled another gasp as a passing car's headlights illuminated the brunette head of Srechko.

Stranger: Sherlock tensed and a hand quickly snapped back to Mycroft's shoulder, keeping Mycroft behind him and he fisted his hand and prepared to attack Srechko as he made his way to their window. Why didn't Sherlock think to pack a gun?

You: Patting Sherlock's hand then shrugging it off, Mycroft shifted forward and sat on the edge of the couch. He was more than capable of taking care of himself, he believed. Though he did mourn the loss of his umbrella that hid a short sword in the cane.

Stranger: As Srechko climbed into their window, Sherlock made to attack him as a small red dot landed on his forehead. His body froze as he glared down the barrel of the gun in hatred.

You: Mycroft knew he hadn't been seen yet, the sniper concentrating completely on Sherlock. He stayed still, waiting for an opportune moment to do something.

Stranger: "You killed Kev," Srechko's voice growled. His grip tightened on the barrel and all Sherlock could do was have John flash across his mind.

You: As Srechko spoke, Mycroft moved as slowly as he could to sidle across the floor towards the sniper. As soon as the man stopped speaking, Mycroft stopped moving, freezing about three feet away.

Stranger: "Maybe I did," Sherlock growled back, letting his eyes flick to Mycroft for a split second. The darkness didn't allow Srechko to see his eyes, a relief he noticed as he kept talking. "No, you did. I know it," Srechko barked.

You: Shifting forward again as the two other men spoke, Mycroft got about two feet closer. He was so close he could reach out and touch Srechko, but as he stopped talking, Mycroft froze again and cursed silently. This was starting to go on too long and he didn't want Sherlock to get shot.

Stranger: "How do you know?" Sherlock asked, inclining his head onto slightly, the barrel of the gun pointing his between the eyes, getting him a little nervous. "Easy," Srechko smirked. "The place is rigged with cameras. Caught your face as clear as day before you knocked the lights out. Kev is dead when the tape ended, so what else could have happened?" Srechko waved the gun slightly, then pointed it back right between Sherlock's eyes.

You: Mycroft tensed and as Srechko moved the gun back, he lunged forward and tackled him to the floor. The gun barked and Mycroft yelled as a hot flash of fire went through his arm. He didn't let up on Srechko, though, and hissed down at him, "How did you find us?"

Stranger: "Followed you, how else?" Srechko growled back, smiling at the blood that dripped onto him. Sherlock quickly got on top of Srechko and took his gun, pointing it between his eyes and smirking. "Get up, Joshua," He said, holding the gun steady.

You: Mycroft stood, one hand clasping his upper arm to staunch the blood. The wound hurt and he clenched his teeth against the pain. "All right, what are we going to do with him?" Mycroft grated.

Stranger: "I say just shoot him here and now. Out of self-defense... Against?" Sherlock asked, starting to pull the trigger.

You: "Maybe we should talk to him first, Dean," Mycroft suggested. "Find out if he knows anything before rendering him... obsolete."

Stranger: "Ask him anything you want, Joshua," Sherlock said, licking his lips and holding the gun tighter.

You: "You had a target," Mycroft started, glaring at Srechko. "A woman, living here in London. You left and came back. Who told you to and how do I find them?"

Stranger: Srechko moaned, knowing he was going to be forced to talk. Sherlock made sure he saw the gun, and Srechko started. "He's the head sniper. Head of the IOU. He calls the shots. Of course, he had another, but he died a little under a week ago. Killed, really, but nobody knows by whom."

You: "And the name of the head sniper?" Mycroft asked, knowing full well what had happened to poor, not-so-dearly-departed Gary.

Stranger: "Sebastian Moran," Srechko growled. "Right-hand man to Moriarty, I'm sure you've heard of him. It was pathetic. He was always kissing up to him... followed him around like a lost puppy..." Srechko growled.

You: "I have indeed heard of Moriarty," Mycroft hissed. "And have you seen Moran? Do you know where he is now?"

Stranger: "Nah..." Srechko sighed dangerously. "Nobody knows where he is. Moves every few days, that one. Never tells his location. Smart one, that guy."

You: "How do you get in contact with him if he always moves?" Mycroft continued. "Surely you have some way of talking with him."

Stranger: "He contacts us," Srechko shook his head. "Always uses a landline of some company, or a phone booth on the streets. Always blocks the number and emails and text messages. Never lets any information out of his. Completely under the radar."

You: "Is there any way for you to get a hold of him?" Mycroft asked, starting to get annoyed at the lack of answers.

Stranger: "No, I told you, he doesn't let out -any- information," Srechko hissed, eyeing the gun.

You: "How about other people working for IOU? Do you know anyone else? And did you have any other targets from Moran?"

Stranger: "No. They are all dead. The IOU is falling. I and Moran are the last two in which I know of. Moran would know more, if there is any. The only other target I had was one of a Greg Lestrade? A couple smaller ones to watch, but otherwise, no one to target," Srechko said, his eyes flashing to Mycroft's bloody hand.

You: "Excellent," Mycroft said, nodding at Sherlock. "I think that covers everything I wanted to know. Dean, any questions from you?" Mycroft moved to sit heavily on the sofa, the strength fleeing from his legs.

Stranger: "I think you covered it," Sherlock growled, his finger tightening on the trigger. He pulled it and a perfectly aimed bullet blew into Srechko's skull, killing him right there. Sherlock stood frozen for a moment, before dropping the gun and running quickly to Mycroft. "Let me see it," He growled, taking Mycroft's hand off his hurt arm.

You: Mycroft hissed in pain but allowed Sherlock to slide his shirt sleeve up. He looked at the small hole and marvelled that it could hurt as much as it did. "Doesn't look too bad," Mycroft said, trying to force cheer into his tone.

Stranger: "We need to get you to a hospital. Give me your phone. NOW!" Sherlock barked, as he hurriedly took off his shirt to stop the blood. He pressed it to the bleeding hole, hard.

You: Mycroft fumbled at his pocket, pulling his phone out. He hissed again in pain as Sherlock snatched it and accidentally pressed against the wound. "I can make it to the hospital if you are calling an ambulance," Mycroft insisted. "They won't be needed."

Stranger: "I need to call the police and report the attack anyway. We're not risking you falling from this high up anyway, look at you, you're shaking. You lost too much blood, you would fall," Sherlock said quickly, dialing the number and putting the phone to his ear. He quickly barked where they were and what happened, making sure to include the attack and how he shot the man in self-defense and how his 'friend' had been shot.

You: "You know they are going to call Greg for this," Mycroft muttered. "This is his division." He sat back against the cushions, feeling suddenly dizzy.

Stranger: "Like he wouldn't find out anyway? I think you'd rather have him find out this way then while you guys are going at it in bed and he rips your shirt off or something," Sherlock mused. "Besides, he'll want to come up here anyway and be with you, I'm sure."

You: Mycroft chuckled weakly at the mental image Sherlock evoked and grimaced when he jerked his arm. Soon, the sound of sirens filled the area as an ambulance and several police cars pulled up outside.

Stranger: "You're going to be okay," Sherlock whispered, trying to push under the tears. "I promised Lestrade you would be..."

You: "I know," Mycroft said, still chuckling weakly. "I'll be fine. Just a little bullet." He couldn't stop laughing and a small distant part of him wondered if this was what shock felt like.

Stranger: "Just don't close your eyes on me," Sherlock muttered, feeling his eyes water. He sniffed and tried to smile. "You're going to see Lestrade soon."

You: Nodding, Mycroft turned to look out the window. He could see red and blue lights reflected on the buildings and the stars twinkling in the sky. The sudden squeal of metal on metal again had him jerking upright and trying to muffle a scream.

Stranger: Sherlock pushed Mycroft's good shoulder down till Mycroft was against the pillows again. "Just the police, Mycroft. Relax..." Sherlock whispered, smiling at his brother.

You: The first person Mycroft saw enter the room was a paramedic carrying an large orange bag. He spared one glance at Srechko on the floor, determined he was beyond help and not his problem, then looked at Mycroft. "Tell me what happened," the paramedic said briskly.

Stranger: Sherlock let go of Mycroft's arm as the paramedic took over. He quickly told the story and watched as the police started on the body of Srechko.

You: The paramedic worked to stabilize the wound and get it to stop bleeding as best he could. The bullet was still lodged in Mycroft's arm and his eyes were starting to roll up in his head. "All right, I think we need to get him out of here," the paramedic said as Greg made his way through the window.

Stranger: "Lestrade..." Sherlock tried to smile as he saw the DI. He tried to dry his eyes the best he could, but failed. The DI just stood there, frozen to the spot just beside the window, his gaze glued on Mycroft.

You: "What happened?" Lestrade finally choked out. He saw Mycroft's eyes roll his way but no recognition in them. He turned to Sherlock, stalked up to him, and gripped his shirt collar tightly in his fist. "What happened?" he repeated.

Stranger: "Joshua was shot..." Sherlock said, grabbing Lestrade's hands and trying to pry them from his shirt. "In the arm... Please... Lestrade... Let go."

You: "You were supposed to take care of him," Lestrade growled quietly, easing his hands away. "You were supposed to make sure nothing like this happened. The bloody idiot would do anything to help you."

Stranger: "He saved. My life." Sherlock growled, getting into Lestrade's face. "If he didn't do what he did, I would have been dead."

You: Sighing, Lestrade ran a hand through his hair and looked at Mycroft again. The man was out cold, whatever the paramedic gave him had finally kicked in. "We should be able to lower him down easily now," the paramedic told Lestrade.

Stranger: Lestrade nodded, then turned to the body of Srechko. "Your doing?" Lestrade asked, nodding to the body, talking to Sherlock, who only nodded back.

You: The paramedic met a few of his coworkers on the ladder and slowly lowered Mycroft down. He was bundled into the ambulance, Lestrade wishing he didn't have a dead body here so he could follow along.

Stranger: Sherlock rushed to the ambulance and explained he was a friend. They allowed him into the back. Sherlock looked back to Lestrade before getting in.

You: Lestrade studied the body before him, noting the extremely accurate bullet hole in the center of its forehead. He had a feeling this was one of the snipers, considering Sherlock had killed him rather than knocking him out. He turned at the sound of scuffle at the window and had to choke back laughter as Anderson fell inside.

Stranger: "What are you doing here, Anderson?" Lestrade asked, turning towards the man on the floor and putting his hands on his hips under his jacket. It felt wrong smiling while Mycroft was on the way to the hospital.

You: "Here as forensics," Anderson said stiffly, getting to his feet. He looked at the body near the window and sighed. "Another drug dealer or something?"

Stranger: "Or something..." Lestrade said, unsure if he should tell Anderson what he really knew. He turned back to the body and walked around it. "Killed in self-defense."

You: "All right," Anderson said, looking at the body again. "Gun's right here, so at least my job's easy." He went about bagging evidence and taking pictures, so Lestrade felt the scene is in, well, ok hands. He left after nodding at Anderson and made his way to the nearest hospital.

Stranger: Sherlock sat in the waiting room, waiting for Mycroft to come out of surgery. He knew he would be fine. The wound was fairly small and Mycroft's blood was easy enough to find, seeing it was one of the more common of the types. Mycroft would be fine...

You: Lestrade walked in to see Sherlock waiting impatiently in the waiting room. He sat down across from him and said simply, "Talk. Quietly."

Stranger: "What do you want to know?" Sherlock whispered back. "I told what happened at least three times, you had to have heard at least some."

You: "Not really," Lestrade admitted. "I was really focused on Mycroft. Was that the sniper you killed?"

Stranger: "Yes," Sherlock said, nodding. "He attacked us while we were asleep. Came in our.... -that- flat. Right through the window, and held me at gunpoint. He didn't see Mycroft, who snuck around him and tackled him, that's when he got shot."

You: "How did he find you both?" Lestrade asked. "I thought you were being really careful. That's what the new clothing was for, right?"

Stranger: "Yes. He didn't know who we really were," Sherlock explained in a hushed tone. "All he knew was that we killed that drug dealer. That -I- killed that drug dealer, I didn't let Mycroft come in, not even if he heard gunfire while I was in there... Anyway, a camera caught us, and he somehow followed us back."

You: "We need to do something about the camera, then," Lestrade said tiredly, running a hand through his hair. "You should take care of this. I'm already involved a little more than I'd like to be. Don't want to push it."

Stranger: "I'll get my homeless network to take care of it," Sherlock ran a hand through his hair. "I need to be here with Mycroft for now..."

You: "Me too," Lestrade nodded. "I left Anderson at the scene. It's pretty cut and dried so even he shouldn't be able to muck it up too much."

Stranger: "Don't doubt the power of his stupidity, Lestrade," Sherlock said, shaking his head at the thought.

You: Lestrade laughed loudly, tension released at the sound. He couldn't stop until he was breathless and panting, leaning over his knees.

Stranger: Sherlock didn't laugh nearly as hard, but he still leaning back in his seat with laughter. "Seriously, though..." He choked out.

You: "Yeah, yeah," Lestrade said, waving a hand. "Can't get him transferred out. You've terrified everyone else. Wonder how long the surgery is going to take."

Stranger: "Doctor said about an hour. He's going to transfuse blood as well," Sherlock said, nodding to the door on the other side of the room.

You: Lestrade sat back to wait, checking his phone at incoming texts and calls and directing the techs at the scene. His gaze kept flicking up to the clock on the wall and he stood when a doctor walked out 10 minutes after an hour was up.

Stranger: "How is he?" Sherlock and Lestrade asked in unison, Sherlock standing as well.

You: "Your friend Joshua is fine," the doctor said, nodding at both of them. "The surgery went well and we retrieved the bullet. Is there an officer we can give it to?"

Stranger: "Me," Lestrade said, pulling out his badge and flashing it to the doctor. "Detective Inspector Lestrade."

You: "All right," the doctor said, handing over a plastic bag with a bullet inside it. "He's resting now but you can visit him. One at a time please."

Stranger: Sherlock sighed and looked at Lestrade. He nodded towards the door. "You go ahead, he's your boyfriend."

You: Ignoring the curious look from the doctor, Lestrade nodded at Sherlock and walked back to the recovery rooms. He slipped inside the room Mycroft was in and had to stop to catch his breath. The man looked smaller, his eyes closed on the bed.

Stranger: The machines attached beamed promptly, rhythmically into the air. An IV was pumping fluids into Mycroft's wrist.

You: Moving to sit in the chair next to the bed, Lestrade took Mycroft's hand and just held it. Tears burned in his eyes, forming now that he had the leisure to feel about what happened.

Stranger: Mycroft's eyes opened slowly, staring straight up to the ceiling. He felt something holding his hand, but dismissed it as another one of the stupid machines he was hooked to.

You: "What is going on?" Mycroft asked imperiously and took his hand back before he realized who was in the room with him. When he focused on Greg's worried face, he immediately took Greg's hand again and said, "Greg? What are you doing here?"

Stranger: "They called me..." Lestrade answered, letting the tears run their course. "Called over a body that was shot in self-defense. They needed me to come up here. I left Anderson at the scene as soon as I saw you."

You: "I'm sorry," Mycroft said. "I didn't mean to let him shoot me. I just couldn't let him kill Sherlock. But it's good to see you, love." He squeezed Greg's hand and smiled at him.

Stranger: "I understand..." Lestrade whispered, leaning over and kissing Mycroft's forehead. "It's good to see you too. But not like this..."

You: "I know but I'm all right now," Mycroft said soothingly. "And I'll have a nice scar to show off to you." He lifted his other hand to brush over Greg's cheek and wipe away the remnants of the tears.

Stranger: Lestrade let out a weak chuckle, leaning into Mycroft's touch. "I love you, baby."

You: "I love you, too," Mycroft whispered, leaning his head up to kiss Greg lightly. "Stay with me for a while?"

Stranger: "Well... Sherlock is outside waiting for his turn. I'll let him in, you guys can talk, then I'll be back," Lestrade said, running a finger over Mycroft's cheek. "I promise, I'll be back."

You: "See you soon, love," Mycroft said. He watched as Greg walked out, sad that he had broken the promise not to get hurt. But he was fine now and Greg was here. Hopefully, everything would be all right.

Stranger: Sherlock slowly entered the room, lingering on the door. "Mycroft?" Sherlock asked slowly, feeling worry rush through him. What if Mycroft was mad at him for letting him get shot?

You: "I'm here and I'm alive," Mycroft replied sardonically. "Everything all right at the crime scene? Greg said Anderson was in charge since he was here."

Stranger: "Should be..." Sherlock said, venturing deeper into the room. "A-are you... How's the...?" Sherlock stopped, not knowing what to ask.

You: "It hurts a little bit, but other than that I'm fine," Mycroft said, waving at the chair to have Sherlock sit down. "It's not your fault, you know. I knew exactly what I was doing."

Stranger: "I was supposed to protect you..." Sherlock muttered, sitting next to the bed. "I wasn't supposed to let you do something stupid and get yourself hurt..."

You: "Sherlock, I am an adult capable of looking after myself," Mycroft said sternly. "And I wasn't going to let him kill you. Stop feeling guilty about me being hurt. I knew exactly what I was doing."

Stranger: "Still..." Sherlock looked at Mycroft in his eyes. "I'm your younger brother. Remember, I'm supposed to watch after you," He smirked.

You: "I believe that's my job," Mycroft said dryly, a smile curving his lips. "But everything's fine now. Two snipers down, one Moriarty-replacement down, and we just have Moran left. Though I have a feeling that is going to be very difficult."

Stranger: "Well, we're not going after him till -that- heals," Sherlock pointed at the bandage on Mycroft's arm. "And... I don't think you should go at all..."

You: "You need someone to watch your back," Mycroft argued. "You get reckless by yourself. And I agree. Trying to run after you with a still-healing bullet wound is a bad idea."

Stranger: "No, you're not going..." Sherlock said, looking determined now. "You're not going with me anymore. I don't get reckless! And it won't matter anyway. It's not like if he realizes who I am, I have to worry about John or Lestrade being killed! You're not coming and risking being killed. That's that."

You: Mycroft couldn't help but chuckle at the way Sherlock was nearly yelling at him. "You're sure?" he asked. "You don't want someone watching your back? Because I have to admit, I'm starting to tire of legwork."

Stranger: "Sure, I want someone with me. But it won't be you," Sherlock said, looking down. "You can't help me... you can't get hurt..."

You: Mycroft was touched by the worry Sherlock was exhibiting over him. He allowed himself to hope that maybe this time, they wouldn't lose the easy bond they'd developed. "Fine," he said. "But I am going to help you as much as I can behind the scenes. If Moran even shows his face on CCTV, I will find him."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded. He took Mycroft's hand and squeezed it. "I'm guessing you want Lestrade back?"

You: "I would like to see Greg again, yes," Mycroft said, squeezing back. "But I want to make sure you are all right as well. You still look shaken."

Stranger: "I'm fine..." Sherlock tried to smile, standing. "Don't worry about me, Mycroft. I'm fine, and would tell you if otherwise. I'll send Lestrade in..."

You: Mycroft kept a grip on Sherlock's hand, stopping him from leaving. "Thank you for trying to keep me safe," he said. "For keeping me safe when you dealt with the drug dealer. Be careful."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded, smiling again. "You're welcome." With that, he left the room. Lestrade came back in and quickly sat next to Mycroft, taking his hand again.

You: "Welcome back, love," Mycroft said, smiling at Greg. "I hope I'm not keeping you from work."

Stranger: "Anderson has it enough," Lestrade waved it off and smiled down at Mycroft. "You're not in pain, are you?"

You: "No, not appreciably," Mycroft said, smiling back. "The painkillers they gave me are wonderful." He took Greg's hand again and just stared at him, the fact that he could have died finally crashing down on him.

Stranger: "I was worried about you the whole time you were gone... I wish I could have talked to you even more than we did," Lestrade said, kissing Mycroft's hand lightly.

You: "I know, love," Mycroft said, feeling trembling start to overtake his limbs. "I had to restrain myself in the middle of the night from texting you because I knew you'd be asleep." His teeth chattered over the last few words as his entire body shivered in the bed.

Stranger: "Are you okay?" Lestrade asked worriedly, looking at Mycroft as he shook. "Are you cold? What's wrong?"

You: "Reaction to everything," Mycroft explained tersely. "I could have died, could have lost you. I can't believe that. I am so glad to still be here but the shock still hasn't worn completely off." Mycroft looked away, his teeth still clacking as he spoke. He couldn't control the tremors wracking him, could only ride them out and hope they stopped soon.

Stranger: Lestrade leaned over and kissed Mycroft's cheek gently. "You're alright, Mycroft. You're not dead. You're still mine. You're alive, and you're mine. You're mine. You're mine. You're mine," Lestrade whispered, kissing Mycroft over and over again, avoiding his mouth.

You: "I... I... I know," Mycroft stuttered. He pulled on Greg's hand, wanting the man closer to him. "Will you.... please.... come here.... with me?"

Stranger: Lestrade slowly climbed into the bed, still kissing Mycroft over the face. "You're mine..." He kept muttering, not being able to stop. He want to get Mycroft to relax.

You: Mycroft wrapped his arms around Greg's waist and held onto him tightly. He needed the contact, needed to be reminded that he was indeed alive. "I love you," he murmured against Greg's neck, breathing in the scent of him.

Stranger: "I love you too, sweetie," Lestrade muttered, using his pet name for him.

You: Slowly, the tremors eased and Mycroft was able to breathe again. He came back to himself and saw that he had pressed his face hard into the juncture of Greg's neck and wrapped himself completely around the DI. It felt comfortable and right, so he stayed that way, lifting his head to look at Greg.

Stranger: "Watch your arm, love," Lestrade whispered, noticing the bandage was turning bloody.

You: "I love you," Mycroft repeated again, ignoring the pain in his arm for the moment. "Thank you, Greg." He tried to tighten his arms around Greg in a hug but hissed when the wound flared bright with pain.

Stranger: "Mycroft you need to let go," Lestrade said urgently, watching the bandage go completely red with blood. "You need a doctor."

You: Slowly, Mycroft unwrapped his arms from around Greg and placed them in his lap. He eased back from Greg, sad at the loss of warmth but the pain in his arm was starting to be a little overwhelming. "All right," he choked out over the pain.

Stranger: "I'm so sorry.... I should have stopped..." Lestrade said, standing and pressing the nurse button.

You: "No, that was exactly what I needed," Mycroft protested. "I needed you to help convince me I was still here. My body wasn't listening to my mind."

Stranger: "I shouldn't have gone that far..." Lestrade muttered, taking Mycroft's hand and sitting down just as a nurse walked in.

You: "What do you need?" the nurse asked briskly, eyeing the two men in the room. Then her eyes fell on the bloodied bandage and she gasped, "What happened?"

Stranger: "We... I... Um..." Lestrade stuttered, looking at Mycroft, his face burning red.

You: "I had a reaction to the fact that I could easily have died," Mycroft said, smiling gently at Lestrade. "Greg here helped get me through it. I think the shock has finally worn off now."

Stranger: "And your arm?" The nurse asked, starting to remove the bandage.

You: "Started bleeding again because I was hugging him so tightly," Mycroft said. "It was nothing he did."

Stranger: "You're going to need to get stitches replaced..." The nurse ticked her tongue, looking at the now-open wound.

You: "It was worth it," Mycroft murmured to Greg. "All right," he said louder. "How long will it take? And when am I going to be able to leave?"

Stranger: "It'll take around... thirty minutes. We have to take out the old stitches and all. If you actually keep these in, you can leave in a few hours. You know, as long as everything else is okay," The nurse said, writing something on his file.

You: "Excellent," Mycroft said, looking into Greg's eyes. "I would like to get out of here as soon as possible. And I won't be doing anything to tear the stitches again."

Stranger: "No, you won't be," Lestrade said firmly. "You'll be staying at my house so I can look over you."

You: The nurse nodded at them and walked out, presumably to get the materials needed to resew the bullet hole. Mycroft looked at Greg and said quietly, "You're sure? You aren't mad I was injured?"

Stranger: "Of course I'm mad, Mycroft, but not at you," Lestrade said quietly, sitting back down and leaning towards Mycroft. "I'm going to be mad if you're hurt, no matter what. But I'm not mad at you."

You: "That's good but I hope you're not mad at Sherlock as well," Mycroft said, smiling slightly. "It's not his fault I was hurt. I knew exactly what I was doing."

Stranger: "I'm mad at the man who shot you," Lestrade said, taking Mycroft's hand that wasn't on his hurt arm. "I'm mad someone would hurt you."

You: Mycroft lifted Greg's hand and brushed a kiss over the knuckles. He breathed in the scent of Greg's skin and said, "Well, Sherlock has already taken care of that for you. And you're rather cute when you're protective."

Stranger: Lestrade's expression didn't waver, but a blush crept up his neck and colored his cheeks. "He got what he deserved..."

You: "I completely agree," Mycroft growled, the teasing gone from his voice. "His target may have been Mrs. Hudson but he knew about you. Knew you were a target as well."

Stranger: "But he wasn't after me, right?" Lestrade asked quietly, shivers going down his spine.

You: "I don't believe so, but that wouldn't have stopped him if Moran had handed him orders," Mycroft said darkly. "And we still have no idea where he is."

Stranger: Lestrade ran a hand over his face and leaned back in the seat. "How much do they know about me? Do you know?"

You: Sighing, Mycroft nodded. "They know just about everything," he explained. "The sniper had these envelopes filled with information on everyone even remotely connected to Sherlock. We took them with us in case anyone goes through his flat."

Stranger: "Do you have mine?" Lestrade asked, sighing deeply.

You: "Yes, it's in the pocket of the jeans I was wearing," Mycroft said. He waved at the small dresser on the other side of the room. "Also, I have Donovan's and Anderson's. For some reason, he had all kinds of information on them too."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded and gently slipped his hand from Mycroft's. He stood up and went over to the dresser, opening it and pulling out a hand full of envelopes from the pocket. He sat back next to Mycroft and flipped through them.

You: Waiting silently, Mycroft watched Greg's face as he looked through the information. Shock and anger were predominate and fear coiled deep in his eyes. "It'll be ok," Mycroft said, speaking to the fear Greg couldn't help but feel. "We took out most of IOU. Only Moran's left."

Stranger: "What if he attacks us?" Lestrade asked, flipping to Mycroft's pages and reading the information.

You: "Then we'll know where he is," Mycroft responded reasonably, his heart skipping at the thought of Greg in danger. "And Sherlock will deal with him. We've worked it out that I'm going to help with information and things while he does the actual hunting."

Stranger: "I don't want to lose you...." Lestrade said slowly, retaking Mycroft's hand. "I can't lose you..."

You: "And you won't," Mycroft said, squeezing Greg's hand. "I'm done with legwork. I think I've completed my fair share of it." He fell silent as the nurse walked in again carrying a tray with thread and a suturing needle.

Stranger: Lestrade squeezed his hand at the sight of the needle. He met Mycroft's eyes, and tried to brush away some of the tears.

You: The nurse efficiently numbed the area around the wound, cut away the old stitches and stitched the wound closed again. Mycroft couldn't help but hiss slightly at the strange sensation of the thread pulling through his skin. Once it was done, the nurse clipped the thread and said, "The doctor will be coming in to look at you before you are discharged." She nodded and then left the room.

Stranger: Lestrade couldn't watch as she stitched Mycroft's arm. His tears ran down his cheeks and squeezed Mycroft's hand when she was done. He couldn't look back up at Mycroft.

You: "What's wrong, love?" Mycroft asked quietly once the nurse was out of the room. He had felt Greg squeezing his hand like he was going to disappear and was worried when the man didn't meet his eyes.

Stranger: "I can't watch you so... hurt. It hurts me..." Lestrade whispered, finally looking back up at Mycroft. "It's not fair..."

You: "I'm all right and still in one piece," Mycroft said, lips curving in a gentle smile. "You don't have to worry. I wasn't even shot in a very serious place, either."

Stranger: "But you -were- shot!" Lestrade said. He moved and sat on the bed next to Mycroft, cradling his hand in his lap.

You: "I was and I'm better now," Mycroft said, pulling Greg close to him. "You can relax now. Have your breakdown over this if you want because I can tell it's coming. I love you and I'm not going anywhere, love."

Stranger: Lestrade shook his head and looked up as the doctor entered the room.

You: "Joshua Wright?" the doctor asked, looking down at the chart in his hands and back up to Mycroft. Mycroft nodded and the doctor continued, "You are fine to leave in a few hours. Just want to make sure there's no complications or infections. Also, the nurse with your paperwork with have your scripts and the instructions for aftercare." The doctor walked over and inspected the restitching, turning Mycroft's arm one way and then another. He made a notation on the chart, left it at the foot of the bed, and nodded as he walked out.

Stranger: "Joshua Wright?" Lestrade asked, raising his eyebrow at Mycroft.

You: "I couldn't use my real name," Mycroft said, smirking. "The snipers might catch wind of a Mycroft coming after them. So I chose Joshua Wright."

Stranger: Lestrade laughed and leaned down to Mycroft to kiss his forehead. "Do you want anything? To drink or eat or any sort of... I don't know... I'll buy you anything..." Lestrade said, his eyes sweeping Mycroft.

You: "I don't need anything right now," Mycroft said quietly. "But I'd really like for you to stay here with me. You have no idea how much I wished I was with you rather than in an abandoned flat with an experiment in Darwinism in the kitchen."

Stranger: "Of course I'll stay with you," Lestrade smiled. "Maybe when we get to my place, when you're up to it... I have that movie."

You: "A movie sounds wonderful," Mycroft said, a yawn cracking his jaw halfway through the sentence. He closed his mouth with a snap, a look of surprise crossing his face. "I guess the anaesthetic still hasn't worn completely off," he continued, yawning again. "You mind if I nod off here?"

Stranger: "Of course not, my love. I'll be right here," Lestrade said, sitting back down in the chair and leaning against the bed, laying his head on his arm.

You: "Thank you, Greg," Mycroft murmured as his eyes slipped closed. His fingers were still twined in Greg's and he smiled as he tumbled into sleep.

\---------------------------end chapter 10----------------------------------


	11. Chapter 11

Stranger: Sherlock made his way from the hospital and started to the train station to head back to Molly's flat. He paused as he saw a small group of his homeless network. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he approached the group and nodded at them.

You: One girl eyed him cautiously then spoke up, "You the bloke that took over for Sherlock, yeah?"

Stranger: "That is correct," Sherlock replied, not making eye contact. "Any of you ever make contact with a man named Kevin? Goes by Kev and sells drugs?"

You: "I know him," the same girl said after looking around the group. She seemed to be the leader of them. "Why?"

Stranger: "I need you guys to do a little something for me," Sherlock said, pulling out a one-hundred pound note. "Course, you will be rewarded for doing it."

You: "What's the catch?" the girl asked, flipping a strand of blond hair out of her eyes and staring at the note.

Stranger: "No catch, just get it done," Sherlock smiled, staring at the girl's longing eyes.

You: "What do you want done?" she asked, seeing that this was someone who could be trusted not to murder her in her sleep.

Stranger: "A camera taken care of in Kev's old layer," Sherlock slid the smile off his face, getting serious. "Burn the tape."

You: "I can do that," the girl said, shivering a bit. "But what about Kev? He gonna be there?"

Stranger: "Dead," Sherlock said simply. "Now, when the tape is done, come to 221B to collect your prize money."

You: The girl tilted her head to the side, confused. "That's where he used to live too," she said. "Why do you live there too?"

Stranger: "I don't," Sherlock said, noticing his mistake in giving the wrong address. "I just figured you all knew it better."

You: "All right," the girl said, mollified. "How fast you want this done and am I gonna have to dodge the police?"

Stranger: "You shouldn't if you burn the tape," Sherlock said, shrugging. "I want this done by the end of the day, at the latest. Oh, and don't knock at the address. Won't do you good."

You: "Then how do I get my money?" the girl asked, suspicion rising in her voice again.

Stranger: "Tomorrow at noon, I will be outside the flat," Sherlock smiled. "Be there, or don't."

You: "Fine," the girl nodded at him. She gestured at the others in the small group and they all scattered in different directions. She disappeared down an alley that would eventually take her into the drug dealer's neighborhood.

Stranger: Sherlock smiled and went on to the train station. He pulled out his phone and sent a quick text to Mycroft. Camera will be taken care of. -SH

You: He's sleeping right now, but I will let him know when he wakes up. Thank you - GL

Stranger: Thank you, Lestrade. Is he doing okay? -SH

You: Yes, he's fine. Popped his stitches when he freaked out over possibly dying, but the nurse fixed it and he can leave in a few hours. - GL

Stranger: Of course he did. I'm heading back to Molly's. Want me to buy you guys tickets for tonight? -SH

You: Seriously, how the hell do you do that? We just agreed to go out to a movie about half an hour ago. - GL

Stranger: I meant for the train, Lestrade. -SH

You: Ha Ha. And yes, please, that would be very helpful. Thanks. - GL

Stranger: I'll put them under your name then. Hope you don't mind. Safer that way. -SH

You: Not at all. It makes sense and letting Moran know Mycroft was up here is a bad idea. Are you going to be coming back with us? - GL

Stranger: No, I'm heading back now. Unless you -want- me to wait. -SH

You: No particular reason for you to. Good night Sherlock. - GL

Stranger: Night Lestrade. Tell Mycroft I'll meet with him when he's ready, please. -SH

You: I'll tell him. But don't expect him to be doing much for a few days. I'm going to make sure he doesn't strain himself. - GL

Stranger: Thank you for looking after him. -SH

You: You never have to thank me for that. I'm glad to. - GL

Stranger: Well, thank you anyway. -SH

You: You're welcome. Be safe, Sherlock. You need to be able to make it back to John. He needs you. - GL

Stranger: And I need him just as much, if not more. -SH

You: Never thought to hear you say that about anyone. Though its nice to finally know you actually are human. Mycroft's waking up so I'm going to talk to you later. - GL

Stranger: Tickets are ready for you. Goodbye, Lestrade. -SH

You: Lestrade put Mycroft's phone into his pocket, watching as his lover shifted in his sleep. He smiled gently and smoothed a hand over Mycroft's cheek, speaking soothingly to him. Mycroft settled down into a deeper sleep and Lestrade kept watch over him.

Stranger: Sherlock got onto the train, sitting alone and looking out the window. He pulled out his phone and stared down at the picture of John on his phone.

You: Meanwhile, Ashley, as the blond girl was named, was making her way cautiously into Kev's flat and looking around in interest. No one had reported the bodies yet and they were still in the same positions Sherlock had left them in. Ashley had been in here before, once went out with Kev, and knew exactly where the camera was. She grabbed the tapes, looking carefully to make sure she had all of them, then stole out of the flat. She came across a nearly-empty dumpster, dropped the tapes in, then used a half-full bottle of alcohol to set the whole thing on fire. She smiled as the tapes melted and fizzled.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: "Mycroft?" Lestrade asked, watching his lover wake up. "The doctor said you can go whenever you're ready. Sher- um... Your friend booked us tickets for the train tonight," Lestrade said, placing his hand on Mycroft's shoulder and noting the nurse just outside their room.

You: Mycroft blinked the sleep from his eyes and sat up in the hospital bed. "I'm ready to get out of here," Mycroft said. "And Dean did? So that means we get to go back home for tonight."

Stranger: "Yes, love," Lestrade smiled, noting the name. "You want your clothes?"

You: "Yes, please," Mycroft levered himself up off the bed and swung his legs over the edge. Dropping his feet to the floor, Mycroft stood straight and took his clothes from Greg. He changed, leaning into Greg when he lost his balance from the remaining anaesthesia.

Stranger: "You okay?" He asked slowly, holding onto Mycroft as he caught his balance. Lestrade's hand ran down Mycroft's back, watching him breathe gently.

You: "Just dizzy from the medications," Mycroft reassured him. He pressed a hand to Greg's shoulder then sat on the bed to put his socks and shoes on. When he was done, the nurse walked in with a clipboard full of paperwork for him to fill out.

Stranger: Lestrade sat next to Mycroft on the bed and helped him quickly fill out the work. As Mycroft filled out the last sheet, Lestrade looked up at the clock and realized what time it was. John and his promise to him flashed into his mind and he winced at the memory. He quickly took out his phone and typed him a message. I'm sorry, an emergency popped up that pulled me to Northern London. Can we rain check the plans to tomorrow night? -GL

You: Sure. Is everything alright? - JW

Stranger: Yes, Mycroft just got shot. Not badly, but he's still in the hospital. We have to make the trip back tonight. -GL

You: Sorry to hear that. Is he doing ok? And I don't mind, you should take care of him. - JW

Stranger: He's fine. Slightly in shock, but otherwise, he's alive and well. Thank you for understanding. I promise, tomorrow. -GL

You: See you then. Good night, Greg. - JW

Stranger: Night, John. -GL

You: Mycroft finished filling out the paperwork as Greg put his phone away. The nurse took it and he walked out of the room holding onto Greg's arm for balance. "Who were you texting?" he asked curiously.

Stranger: "John... I promised him dinner tonight in the hospital," Lestrade said slowly, watching Mycroft's steps slowly. "We were talking the other day for a few hours. Patching things up between us. Staying friends."

You: "I see," Mycroft said. "Well, I hope he wasn't too disappointed."

Stranger: "He sounded like he understood," Lestrade said, pressing the button to the elevator. "You don't sound too happy about that."

You: "What?" Mycroft said. "No, I want you to be friends. I'm happy that you guys are still talking. I just want you for myself tonight."

Stranger: "I am yours tonight. I promised him dinner tomorrow. Could you let me go for a few hours for that tomorrow?" Lestrade asked, pecking Mycroft's cheek.

You: "Of course," Mycroft said, smiling at Greg. "I think I can survive without you for a few hours. And I don't want John to feel like everyone is abandoning him."

Stranger: "Thank you, love," Lestrade smiled, kissing Mycroft on the cheek again and smiling.

You: Mycroft walked out of the hospital and watched as Greg hailed a cab. They rode in silence, glancing fondly at each other. When they reached the train station, Mycroft sat heavily in a chair while Greg went to get their tickets.

Stranger: Lestrade collected the tickets and made his way back to Mycroft, sitting next to him and taking his hand. "We still have around an hour before the train arrives," Lestrade said, stroking a finger over Mycroft's hand.

You: Resting his head on Greg's shoulder, Mycroft's eyes slip closed again. He's always reacted to any sort of medicines like this; always sleeping until they leave his system.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled as Mycroft slipped into sleep, and rested his head against Mycroft's until the train pulled up. He gently shook Mycroft awake and helped him stand.

You: He walked unsteadily onto the train and dropped heavily into the seat. Luckily, it was a bench seat so he was able to lean against Greg without painful chair arms between them. Between the sound of Greg breathing above him and the train wheels, he fell asleep quickly again.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled as Mycroft fell asleep on his shoulder and stroked his hand absentmindedly. He was so adorable and Lestrade couldn't help but think he was the luckiest man on the face of the earth.

You: A few hours later, Mycroft was gently shaken awake again. He looked out and recognized the station they were at. Getting groggily to his feet, Mycroft followed Greg out of the train and the station, standing silently while Greg hailed another cab.

Stranger: Lestrade held Mycroft's hand, holding Mycroft's duffel bag over his shoulder. He didn't know how long Mycroft could stay on his feet, but he seemed a little more balanced than before his nap on the train.

You: "I'm probably going to fall asleep again when we watch that movie," Mycroft murmured in Greg's ear. He pressed a kiss to the other man's cheek and rested his head on Greg's shoulder again.

Stranger: "Well, do you want to watch your movie then? So you know what happens anyway? Or just skip the movie completely?" Lestrade asked, closing his eyes on the kiss.

You: "I don't want to skip it completely," Mycroft said. "I just want to make sure that you don't mind, love."

Stranger: "I don't mind. I understand," Lestrade smiled and took Mycroft's lips with his own.

You: Melting into the kiss, Mycroft sighed against Greg's lips. He didn't deepen the kiss, just let his lips linger on his lover's. The cabby clearing his throat announced they had made it back to Greg's flat.

Stranger: Lestrade blushed and smiled at Mycroft, gently helping him out of the cab. He helped Mycroft up the stairs and to the couch, laying him down, kissing him, then going to make tea for the two of them.

You: Mycroft sank into the squashy cushions. As the soothing scents of tea filled the room, he sat up slightly to take the cup Greg held out to him. Sipping it, he smiled as he recognized his favorite flavor.

Stranger: Lestrade sat on the other end of the couch, pulling Mycroft's feet onto his lap. He sat back and just smiled at Mycroft drinking the tea.

You: "I thought we were going to watch a movie?" Mycroft said, his voice thick with encroaching sleep.

Stranger: "Well, what movie do you want to watch?" Lestrade smiled, looking at Mycroft's adorable eyes.

You: "Whatever you want," Mycroft said, taking another sip. "I'll watch it until I fall asleep."

Stranger: "It's your choice, love. You were the one shot, not me," Lestrade gave a little chuckle, smiling at Mycroft.

You: "Put in one of your mysteries," Mycroft said, yawning. "I'm curious about how they go about solving things."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded and moved Mycroft's feet gently. He stood and put in one of the DVDs into the player and sat back down with the remote, pressing play on the screen.

You: Mycroft watched the movie for as long as he could, sipping at his tea until the cup was empty. But soon, his eyes drooped closed and he started snoring lightly.

Stranger: Lestrade was watching the movie and was about to comment on something to Mycroft, when he turned to see his lover lightly sleeping. He smiled and shut his mouth, turning back to the movie.

You: About an hour later, the movie ended and the credits rolled. A blue screen eventually filled the TV, the dvd player's version of a screensaver. The blue light played over Mycroft and Lestrade, both men sleeping. Mycroft's legs rested on Lestrade's lap and Lestrade's hands were curled around Mycroft's calves.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: Sherlock walked up to 221B and stood outside, looking up at the flat sadly. His heart raced even just standing here, even though he knew John wasn't inside.

You: Ashley sidled up to him, a piece of burnt videotape in her hand as proof of the completed deed. She held it out to Sherlock, still not knowing nor caring what his name was.

Stranger: Sherlock turned to Ashley and smiled at the tape. He pulled out a one-hundred pound note and handed it to her. "Good job. Thank you for doing that," he smiled.

You: "You're welcome," Ashley said, her lips curling in a very small smile. "Anytime you want to pay that good for something that easy, look me up." She walked away, pocketing the note into an inside pocket of her coat.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded after her and turned back to the flat. He couldn't help but wonder if John found his note yet.

You: While Sherlock stood staring at the door, it opened and out popped Mrs. Hudson. She stared at Sherlock, seeing only a stranger watching her door with a strange intensity. "Can I help you?" she finally asked.

Stranger: Sherlock snapped his attention to her and knew if he spoke she would recognize him at once. He shook his head and started away, hearing her call after him, he stopped.

You: "Do I know you from somewhere, dear?" Mrs. Hudson said, confused. She tilted her head to the side, her eyes sweeping over Sherlock's face. "Because you look familiar but I can't place your face."

Stranger: "Um..." Sherlock cleared his throat and deepened his voice. "N-no. I don't believe so..."

You: "Are you sure?" she continued. "Your voice even sounds familiar. But I suppose you would be, dear. I don't meet all too many young men like you."

Stranger: "L-like me?" Sherlock asked, not looking at her.

You: "You seem a bit lost, dear," Mrs. Hudson continued kindly. "Like you're not sure where you belong. But don't lose heart. I'm sure you'll find your place soon."

Stranger: "Uh, t-thanks," Sherlock said slowly, a little confused on where this would lead.

You: Mrs. Hudson smiled at him fondly and patted his shoulder. "You're welcome, dear," she said before turning and walking down the street.

Stranger: Sherlock watched her retreat, waiting till she got into the building of 221B until finally turned turned and started back to Molly's.

You: Molly had the day off and was indulging in a cup of tea and crap telly for a few hours. She hadn't even yet changed out of her pajamas when she heard her front door open. Twisting around on the couch, she saw Sherlock walk in. "Everything go well, then?" she asked.

Stranger: "Yeah, sniper down. Mycroft was shot. Everything went smoothly," Sherlock said waving it off and sitting next to her.

You: "Mycroft was shot?" Molly squeaked. "Is he all right? And everything went smoothly? Your brother was injured."

Stranger: "He's fine. It was only in the upper arm, and Lestrade has him now. If anything he's suffering from lack-of-sex," Sherlock chuckled.

You: Molly chuckled along with him, her mind shying away from the lack-of-sex comment. That was something she didn't particularly want to think about. "So does that mean you only have the one left?" she asked hopefully. "Then you can go back to John?"

Stranger: "That's right," Sherlock smiled at the thought, the smile fading quickly as he thought about it a little more. "But he won't be easy to find... Plus I'll be alone this time."

You: "Why is that?" Molly asked. "And I do remember mentioning that Moran was impossible to find. Something about ghosts?"

Stranger: "Ghosts?" Sherlock asked, looking at her.

You: "Something I vaguely remember about the conversation," Molly said, her voice distant as he thought. "Oh, yes, I remember. He called him a ghost."

Stranger: "Great..." Sherlock muttered, starting to realize how impossible it will be to track this man.

You: "I'm sure you'll find him, Sherlock," Molly said soothingly, staring over at him. "No one could hide from you for long."

Stranger: Sherlock chuckled at the comment. "John seems to be," He laughed dryly.

You: "That's because he believes you gone," Molly said sadly. "Don't you think John would tear the world apart to find you if he believed you were alive?"

Stranger: "Maybe, but he's safe at least," Sherlock smiled at the thought of John, leaning back in the couch. "Have you seen him lately?"

You: "I checked on him earlier today," Molly said. "He was rather annoyed at the nurses. They keep walking into the room every 15 minutes or so to make sure he's still ok."

Stranger: Sherlock smiled knowingly and looked at Molly. "Good," He smiled.

You: "And he said something about seeing Greg later today for dinner," Molly continued. "Apparently, they were supposed to meet last night but something came up. I'm guessing he was taking care of Mycroft."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and thought for a moment. "Has he said anything about our little meeting?"

You: "Like I told you before, the only time he mentioned it to me, he thought it was a dream," Molly said. "Though I doubt he's forgotten it."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded, then stood. "That's good at least. I think I'm going to catch some sleep."

You: "Good afternoon, then, Sherlock," Molly giggled. "Sleep well."

Stranger: "Thanks," Sherlock muttered, exiting down to the basement.

You: Molly giggled again then sobered, her face falling into sadness as she thought about how Sherlock must feel. Taking another sip of her tea, she turned back to the TV, losing herself in easily solved problems for another few hours.

\----------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: Lestrade knocked on John's hospital door, a bag of food in his hand. He waited for John to call him in before entering the room.

You: "Come on in," John called, looking up from his laptop. He was feeling rather annoyed, reading over the comments on his blog. People still insisted on posting their views on Sherlock underneath his post that he still believed in him. Not all the comments were very nice.

Stranger: Lestrade entered the room with a smile and left at once at John's face as he looked at his laptop. "What's wrong?" Lestrade asked, setting the food down on the spare chair.

You: "Just reading over some idiots' replies to my post about believing in Sherlock," John grumbled, his stomach rumbling at the smell of food. "Most of them seem to think that Sherlock committing suicide was the best thing to have happened. That he was a useless fraud."

Stranger: "Okay, you know what, I think you're done with this," Lestrade said, lifting the laptop from John's lap and closing it, ignoring his protests.

You: "What do you think you're doing?" John yelled, trying to reach for his laptop as Lestrade lifted it up and placed it on the nightstand next to the bed. "I was still reading through some of them."

Stranger: "No, John, I want you to relax some for a while. You don't need to get fed up on lies," Lestrade said, handing John a box of the food and a fork.

You: John opened the box to find fish and chips and smiled at Lestrade. "You know, this smells so much better than the crap the hospital has here. Thanks, Greg," he said, spearing a fry on a fork and bringing it to his mouth.

Stranger: "It wasn't a problem," Lestrade said, moving the bag and sitting down, opening his own box and biting into a fry as well.

You: "How's Mycroft doing?" John asked between bites. "How'd he get shot?"

Stranger: Lestrade choked at the question, unsure how to answer without telling John about Sherlock. "Um... he didn't tell me..." Lestrade said, finishing with the choking. "He's doing fine though..."

You: "I'm glad to hear that," John said honestly, staring quizzically at Lestrade. "You ok with everything that happened? You seem a little on edge." He bit into a piece of fish and had to close his eyes at the salty, greasy flavor. It was so much better than hospital food.

Stranger: "I'm fine... But you know, I have to worry about him," Lestrade said, biting into another piece of fry and wishing he had thought to bring something to drink.

You: "Yeah, I get that. I used to have the same feeling chasing after...," John swallowed hard and felt badly in need of a drink. He pressed the nurse's call button and waited in silence until one showed up. "Can we get some water?" John asked her.

Stranger: The nurse nodded and left the room to fetch the water. "I know... I'm sorry, John," Lestrade said taking John's hand lightly.

You: "It's all right," John said, fighting back the tears and winning this time. He'd gotten plenty of practice those first few horrid months after he'd left the military at doing it. He smiled at the nurse when she came back with a pitcher and two cups. He poured for both of them and took a deep drink of his own water.

Stranger: "Do you have a picture of him? Would that help?" Lestrade asked, taking the glass and taking long, slow sips from the glass.

You: "I've got some of the newspaper clippings about those last few cases," John said. "But proper pictures, no not really. And I don't know if it would help. Seeing his face would be like a punch in the gut."

Stranger: "I understand..." Lestrade said slowly, thinking to Sherlock's background on his phone of John. "I'm sorry, John, I know it hurts."

You: "It does, but I'm getting used to it, I guess," John said. "Been thinking hard these last couple days and offing myself seems like the wrong thing to do. I can just hear him yelling at me and calling me dull."

Stranger: "You are -not- dull, John," Lestrade said, staring at John. "Anything but."

You: "Maybe," John laughed dryly. "I was the only one he could tolerate for any lengths of time. A conductor of light, he called me once."

Stranger: "That's very... special to get from someone like... Sherlock," Lestrade chuckled nervously, hoping John wouldn't find it rude he was laughing.

You: "Well he preceded it with an insult, so maybe," John said wryly. He chuckled at the memory and then had to fight back tears when he thought of the coffee Sherlock had given him to apologize.

Stranger: "That's still nice for Sherlock," Lestrade smiled weakly, trying to cheer John up at the sight of the tears that fought to take over his face.

You: "Yes it was," John admitted, finally fighting the tears back. "And there were these little smiles he'd give me, something I never saw him use for anyone else, when I surprised him or deduced something right on a case."

Stranger: "Awww, John... I bet that made you melt everytime. Sounds very special to me," Lestrade could only smile more, realizing how much these two meant to one another. "Like an inside thing, you know?"

You: "Exactly," John said, smiling. "And every time he gave me that smile, I couldn't help but smile back. I really was an idiot not to realize why."

Stranger: "You weren't an -idiot- forsay... I'd say more just... Scared," Lestrade shrugged slightly. "I would be too, Sherlock didn't seem like the... Loving kind."

You: "No, but he did care," John replied quietly. "Much as he denied it, he very much had a heart." John ate another fry, slowly, his mind filling with memories of Sherlock. The times he had acted like a kid on Christmas morning, sulked like a teenager, or just sat silently doing one experiment or another

Stranger: "And that's love for that man, caring. He didn't care about a lot of things, John," Lestrade said, watching John closely. "You know he loved you."

You: "Looking back on it, I think he did," John chuckled. "But then I worry I'm seeing what I want rather than what's really there. He was a... difficult man."

Stranger: "In a lot of ways, yes he was," Lestrade tool a bite of fish. "And in others, no he wasn't."

You: "What do you mean by that?" John asked curiously. He stared at Lestrade, realizing yet again that here stood a man who had spent more time around Sherlock than most people. The man who might understand Sherlock better than anyone else could ever hope to.

Stranger: "I just mean, although some of his methods and reasoning may be a little confusing and whatnot, some of the ways he does things just... Arent," Lestrade struggled for the right words. "He never cared about anything. Work and nothing else. When you came in, John, he became human. He started caring more and showing things no one has ever seen in the man. You were his miracle, John, and he knew it."

You: "Never saw it that way before," John said, awe coloring his voice. "He was always the miracle to me. He saved me, stopped my limp. Gave me excitement and adventure, everything I'd been missing from the military."

Stranger: "You guys did that to each other. You showed him what it was like to have a normal life. You showed him how 'social' people worked," Lestrade explained, setting his food aside for a moment. "He hated attention, John. Not once did anyone ever see him begging for it, but with you, when he started calling you and making excuses to drag you home from dates, everyone saw what you guys did to each other. Everyone but you..."

You: "Yeah, even strangers saw it," John laughed. "But I was so terrified. I don't even remember every reason why but I would reject each little insinuation. Hell, Mycroft straight-out asked if we were getting engaged the first time I met him."

Stranger: Lestrade laughed at the comment. "We wished you were. You were the best thing that happened to Sherlock since... Well... His first triple murder case where he swore it was Christmas and his birthday in one! I wish you were there for that one," Lestrade laughed at the memory.

You: Remembering Sherlock leaping around yelling it was Christmas on their first case, John let out a warm laugh. He could imagine it, oh so clearly, and the thought cheered him. "You did?" John asked when he caught his breath. "I really made that much of a difference to him?"

Stranger: "We all did," Lestrade beamed, holding back the laughter. "You made the biggest difference to that man. Everyone tried to fix him, to get him to act... Normal. You did what everyone else failed at. You did it so easily and it looked like he melted at your touch. You completed him, it was obvious you two were meant to meet, and your friendship was so strong. No one could see the day Sherlock Holmes and John Watson went their separate ways. That day still hasn't come! You're still standing by his side, even when it seems to most the world he has failed you."

You: "I'm one of the few who still stands behind him," John murmured. "Every time we went to a crime scene and Donovan or Anderson called him a freak, I had to restrain myself from punching them. How could they not see the brilliance of the man in front of them?"

Stranger: "They saw it..." Lestrade thought, bothering his lip. "They recoiled and called him a freak because they felt threatened. They are struggling at this case, and here comes a man up to them, solves it in a matter of seconds, and leaves them gasping wondering how in the hell he did it. It was threatening to them, so they had to bring him down with names. That's how the world works. Those who pick on others are threatened by them."

You: "Bloody tossers," John swore, heat threading through his voice. "Though I guess I do have Anderson to thank for Sherlock taking me on that first case. He's the reason Sherlock asked me to come in the first place. Said he needed an assistant."

Stranger: "See? Everything has a reason, John. Just ignore the names they call him. If anything, be proud of them, because you know Sherlock was better than them. Know they only do that because they are threatened." Lestrade took John's hand again, calming him down.

You: John breathed deeply for a few moments, allowing the anger to flow away. He'd long since dealt with the instinctual reaction to Donovan and Anderson, knowing that he could act as a buffer for Sherlock. He squeezed Lestrade's hand in thanks before drawing his hand away and eating another fry.

Stranger: Lestrade picked his food back up and ate another bite of fish, watching John for a few moments in silence.

You: John finished his dinner in the easy silence, allowing Sherlock to fill his mind with only a bit of the usual pain that accompanied the detective's face. Talking about it with someone who cared about Sherlock too helped, allowed him to focus on the time he'd had with Sherlock and not all the time he'd have without him.

Stranger: "Was that good, John?" Lestrade smiled, holding out his hand to take John's box to the trash for him.

You: "Best food I've had in a couple days," John said, smiling at Lestrade. "What do you think they make hospital food out of anyway? Cardboard?"

Stranger: "Cardboard and dirty underwear?" Lestrade laughed. "Just like school food, remember?"

You: "Oh, I do. And I am glad I don't have to eat that anymore," John said fervently. He looked over at his laptop again, wondering if he should read any more of the comments. "What are your plans now?" he asked Lestrade. "I'm sure you're missing Mycroft."

Stranger: "I bet he's asleep," Lestrade said, smiling at the thought. "I can stay and chat if you want to? Or if you'd rather sleep or something-"

You: "The only thing I've got planned is more internet surfing," John said dryly. "So feel free to stay and talk if you want. I could use the company."

Stranger: Lestrade smiled and sat back down next to John's bed. "I'll stay for a while, then."

You: "So what was your first case as a DI?" John asked. "I realized I don't really know all that much about you."

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled, thinking and trying to remember. "It was a murder," He said slowly, chewing his lip. "This young man and his parents were both stabbed to death. The only one that got away was a college-aged daughter. The murderer was the boy's best friend. Sad really. Took 3 years to figure it out. There was almost no clues to the suspect."

You: "It sometimes amazes me that someone can commit and act like that, almost intimate, and leave almost nothing of themselves behind," John said. "I'm glad you finally solved it though."

Stranger: "We didn't solve it, really." Lestrade said, rubbing the back of his neck.

You: "What happened then?" John asked curiously.

Stranger: We got a call from the best friend's girlfriend's aunt, saying the girlfriend had the best friend on the phone and was threatening to kill himself. Had a pistol and all, was going to pull the trigger," Lestrade shook his head at the memory. "So I rushed down and talked the boy to not shooting himself. We sat down with his parents and started talking, seeing we thought it was regret over losing his best friend. After a little while, he admitted to it, and he showed us the knife with dried blood still on it."

You: "That's... harsh," John said, wondering why the boy had been driven to murder his best friend in the first place. Though jealousy was probably an important factor.

Stranger: "It really was..." Lestrade agreed, rubbing his eyes. "Horrible first case, but that's life."

You: "Seems like a calling for you, though," John remarked thoughtfully. "I can't really imagine you doing anything else."

Stranger: "Nor can I..." Lestrade smiled. "Actually, when I was a kid, I wanted to be a doctor, like you," Lestrade chuckled at the memories that came to his mind.

You: "Really? Why is that?" John laughed. "And what made you change your mind?"

Stranger: "I don't know, just one of my childhood dreams. Played with stuffed animals, patched them up and gave them fake sickness to put them in the 'hospital', better known as my bed. Silly things," Lestrade laughed. "My mind was changed in my teen years, watching crimes and mystery shows and trying to solve the cases. It was too interesting."

You: "I had a somewhat similar reaction to your teen years," John said, laughing quietly at the image of a young Lestrade patching up his toys with a serious look on his face. "Though that's what drew me to being a doctor. I watched how one doctor treated my father when he got sick and I wanted to be just like him."

Stranger: "What did you want to do before that?" Lestrade asked thoughtfully.

You: "I wanted to be an author," John said, blushing. "Though I seem to have gotten a bit of that wish granted as well. At least for a little while."

Stranger: "You wanted to write?" Lestrade asked, smiling broadly. "What did you want to write? Novels? Short stories?"

You: "Novels." John admitted. "I love mysteries and science fiction. I wanted to try to write a mix of both. But each time I started a novel, it never seemed to go well."

Stranger: "You can always try now. You have nothing else to post on your blog. You can write and post that on a new blog or something," Lestrade smiled. "I'd love to read it!"

You: "Maybe I'l try," John said, glancing at his computer again. "God knows I've got plenty of knowledge about crimes and solving mysteries. The science fiction part can't be too hard if I want to try mixing them."

Stranger: "I say go for it," Lestrade smiled, poking John lightly in the arm. "You have a bit of time in this hell hole."

You: John nodded and felt the idea take root in his mind. "I think I will," he nodded. "But I'm going to start another blog to do it. Or maybe just write it in Word. Don't really want people commenting on it before I'm done."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded. "You better tell me when it's out. I want to read it," He smiled widely at John.

You: "You'll be the first I tell," John promised. "Though no guarantees on how good it is. He used to insult my writing in my blog all the time."

Stranger: "But that's Sherlock... Him insulting your writing is nothing. He just wanted to talk to you, I bet," Lestrade winked, knowingly.

You: John thought about it for a moment, the burst of epiphany exploding in his mind. "You're probably right," he said slowly. "He was even eating once when he insulted it."

Stranger: "Eating? Sherlock? Eating? I've never heard of such a thing!" Lestrade gasped, laughing.

You: John couldn't help but grin and double over with helpless laughter. "I know," he gasped. "It was the one time I didn't have to badger him into it that I remember."

Stranger: "Oh that man... He was something wasn't he?" Lestrade smiled, rolling his eyes.

You: "He really was," John said, his tone turning wistful. In that moment, he decided that the main character in his proposed novel would be based on Sherlock. It was his way of holding onto just a little bit of the man he loved. Giving him some semblance of life again.

Stranger: "So what else did you guys used to do in that flat of yours? Anything interesting?" Lestrade asked, leaning forward on his knees

You: "Sherlock used to use my gun to shoot the wall when he was bored," John said, grimacing. "Ticked Mrs. Hudson off with that one. And I lost count of the random body parts I'd find in the fridge. And it was always the same excuse: "Experiment, John!""

Stranger: "Sounds irritating," Lestrade laughed. "I remember seeing the bullet holes in the wall last time I was over."

You: "It was but it was kind of funny once he was done," John said, smiling. "Though the best was when I got him into crap telly. He would yell at the screen like it could actually hear him."

Stranger: "That sounds like him, all right," Lestrade smiled. "Why did you do that?"

You: "Because I was trying to read something at the time," John said. "I don't even remember what it was and I turned on the television to some talk show and told him to deduce the participants."

Stranger: "I can't say that really was a -smart- move," Lestrade laughed, thinking of Sherlock shouting at the telly. "Did you guys used to do that together? Sit and watch telly while he yelled at it?"

You: "Sometimes yeah," John said. "Most of the time, it distracted him enough that he just ate whatever I handed him."

Stranger: "So he -did- eat," Lestrade said, faking the surprise in his voice.

You: "He did," John said, laughing at Lestrade. "Though usually only when I got him to. He seemed to enjoy fighting with me over it."

Stranger: Lestrade smiled and nodded. "So I'm guessing life with him was never boring, right?"

You: "No, it wasn't," John replied, sadness leaking into his eyes again. "I miss walking the battlefield with him."

Stranger: "I'm sure... you can find someone else?" Lestrade asked, watching John's expression slip again.

You: "No, I don't really want to," John mused. "He's become so much a part of me, part of my life." He watched a sad expression cross Lestrade's face and patted his hand. "Not that I regret what happened between us," John said. "But I don't think I can make something work with anyone else."

Stranger: "Not even a career? What if you come work at the Scotland Yard?" Lestrade asked, taking John's hand again as he patted his.

You: "I may try to get a job at another clinic once the furor over him quiets a bit," John said, taking a sip of his water. "But for right now, I think I need to stay away from people. I'm too on-edge around them."

Stranger: "I understand..." Lestrade said at length. He sipped his water as well, and waited for John to say something else.

You: John sat silently, cursing himself. He had let his own black mood out again, ruining the easy conversation with his friend. He dragged in a deep breath and wondered what he could possibly talk about now.

Stranger: "So what do you plan to do once you get out of here? Just lock yourself in your flat?" Lestrade asked, a little dryly. "I hope you don't... I mean... It's what you were implying."

You: "If I want to work on that novel, I probably should," John said, forcing a smile onto his face again. "I've found while writing my blog that I work best at home."

Stranger: "Well, I guess it's better than sitting there doing nothing.." Lestrade shrugged. He sipped his water again.

You: "Nothing would get boring very quickly," John said, the smile coming a little more easily. "Never been one for boring. Part of why I joined the military in the first place."

Stranger: "What was that like, anyway?" Lestrade asked, setting down his water.

You: "The military?" John asked. "Or Afghanistan?"

Stranger: "Both," Lestrade shrugged with a smile.

You: "The military was very structured and orderly," John explained. "I always knew what I had to do and what orders to give to those below me. Afghanistan was.... the opposite. It was messy and brutal and bloody and hot. And the sand got everywhere. There were times I'd wake up and be breathing the stuff."

Stranger: "Sounds... horrible!" Lestrade said, frowning at John. "Is that what you really wanted to do?"

You: "I wanted to help people," John said, thinking over the soldiers he'd saved. And those he'd failed to save. "And I wanted to protect people as well. Being a military doctor seemed the best way to do it."

Stranger: "That is very..." Lestrade thought for a minute, trying to decide on a word. "Selfless."

You: "I wouldn't describe it like that, but sure," John chuckled. "But it was the perfect job for me. Then I found out how good of a marksman I was."

Stranger: "You were good?" Lestrade asked, smiling. "I've only seen you shoot once. Easy enough to figure it was a lucky shot. Maybe you can show me sometime?"

You: "If you like," John said. "And I was very good. Still am, actually." He grinned at the thought of going back to a shooting range, smelling the distinct scent of metal and cordite. His heart beat faster at the thought.

Stranger: "I'd love to have a round at the range with you," Lestrade smiled, seeing John gain a distant glint in his eyes.

You: "Well, pick a night after I'm out of here," John said. "We'll go and I'll teach you a thing or two." He winked at Lestrade, adrenaline flowing through his veins again. Fingers clenched on his sheets, itching to feel the reassuring weight of a gun's grip again.

Stranger: "It's a deal!" Lestrade winked back and leaned back in his chair, sighing happily.

You: "How good are you?" John asked curiously. "I've never actually seen you pull your gun much less shoot one."

Stranger: "I'm good," Lestrade shrugged. "Best on my team, but who's counting?" Lestrade smiled knowingly at John.

You: John snorted at the thought of Anderson with a gun. He really hoped that crime scene techs were not allowed to carry them. He wouldn't trust Anderson with a squirt gun. Finally, curiousity got the better of him and he asked, "Does Anderson carry a gun?"

Stranger: Lestrade nodded slowly, making a disgusted face at the thought. "Sadly," he said. "But he's not allowed to use it unless under extreme... situations.."

You: "Almost shot someone accidentally or something?" John asked, a dark hint of amusement in his voice.

Stranger: "No, we don't need to wait for that to happen before we restrict him," Lestrade laughed. "No one trusts him to touch one, let alone pull one. Someone once whispered to me that they would have a better chance of living at the mercy of the villain then if Anderson pulled his gun to try to help."

You: John laughed loudly at that, a warm belly laugh startled out of him. He tried to imagine Anderson holding a bad guy at gunpoint and gasped breaths in heaving laughter at the thought.

Stranger: Lestrade joined in with John, unable to help himself. The warm sound filled the air and he doubled over.

You: John felt better after he finally caught his breath, wiping tears out of his eyes. He hadn't felt tears of happiness in... 5 months, 3 weeks, and 2 days now. He sighed when he thought of that day again but wrenched his mind out of the past. He had to stop living there or he would go mad.

Stranger: Lestrade sat back up, gasping slightly. He brushed away the spare tears and beamed at John. "I'm glad to hear you laugh again..." Lestrade said at length between gasps. "It suits you better than the depression you seem to have coated yourself with this past few months."

You: "It's good to laugh like that again," John agreed. "Good to know I still can. And I'm sorry if I've been dragging everyone down with me. Is that why Molly almost never comes by anymore?"

Stranger: "No, she's just been busy," Lestrade said, making the smile stay on his face even though it was starting to hurt. "Her... cousin has been over, crashing at her place. She's been spending a lot of time with him."

You: "I didn't know Molly had family. She never really discusses anything about herself," John said, wondering why he'd never asked. "What's his name?"

Stranger: "Uh... Steven," Lestrade lied quickly. He was never really all too good at lying. "He's been here the past few months, helping her with the pain."

You: "Glad someone's been there for her," John said, a little guiltily. "I haven't been able to help anyone with their grief because of my own. How's Mycroft dealing with it?"

Stranger: "He's fine," Lestrade said slowly. "I haven't seen him sad about it at all. We never really talked about it except for the first date... really..."

You: "Well, they didn't have the closest relationship. Though Mycroft kept trying to get some sort of control over him," John shook his head, a rueful smile crossing his face. "You guys doing better?"

Stranger: "Yeah, I think we're back to our old ways. I think we trust each other a little more," Lestrade smiled shyly at the thought of him. "We're trying to keep this relationship going strong. Handling it carefully, you know? He's the world to me..."

You: "I'm glad you guys are happy again," John said. "I wanted to tear Mycroft to little bits after seeing how you were after you guys broke up. What brought you guys back together, anyways?"

Stranger: "Thank you, for caring that much," Lestrade smiled up at him. "Well, after you went in the hospital and the doctor told me you needed blood and all that, I called Mycroft, seeing if he knew anyone with your type of blood. It's a very rare type and his friend happened to have it. Long story short, he heard how worried and upset I was over you and he came down to help me... After he read me the note you left... for me... He held me while I cried for a while, then we ended up kissing..."

You: "Sounds like a romantic movie," John said, smiling wryly. "I'm really surprised Mycroft knew someone with my blood type. I'll have to meet this friend sometime and thank him."

Stranger: "He was only in town for a few days," Lestrade lied quickly. "He lives in the United States."

You: "Well, I guess I could always call or email him," John replied agreeably. "That was extremely lucky. Guess the universe wants me around for a bit."

Stranger: "I guess so," Lestrade smiled. "He also mentioned that Sherlock had your type. Kind of that uh... small talk I guess you can call it. Said he flaunted it around when he found out at the age of 14 while experimenting with blood."

You: John froze at that statement, his mouth dropping open. "He... he does?" John stammered, finally finding his voice.

Stranger: "Did, yes," Lestrade nodded, looking at John carefully.

You: John nodded, his mind working furiously. "That's really.... odd," he finally remarked. "When I was getting transfused, I thought I heard his voice. It was a dream but it's so strange that he had the same blood type as me."

Stranger: "You guys were closer than you thought, I guess," Lestrade smiled. "That is strange, maybe he told you and your subconscious remembered, making the connection in a dream?"

You: "Maybe," John said doubtfully. "I don't remember talking with him about blood types or him ever using my blood for an experiment. But it is possible. With him, I used to believe anything was possible."

Stranger: "He was probably looking at some sort of blood for an experiment, told you about it, and you just kind of nodded through it from lack of sleep or something," Lestrade waved it off.

You: John laughed, finding the explanation extremely plausible. He yawned then and looked up at the clock. "Can't believe it's already gone 10," he said, yawning again. "Mind if we call it a night for tonight?"

Stranger: "Sure, Mycroft is probably wondering where I am," Lestrade said, standing and stretching. He moved John's laptop somewhere easy for him to reach really quick.

You: "Tell him I said hi," John said awkwardly. "And I think I'm over wanting to kill him now." He smiled at Lestrade, amused at the shocked look the DI shot him.

Stranger: "You better be," Lestrade warned, partly joking. "I'd be after you if you hurt him in anyway."

You: John raised his hands in a consoling gesture, the smile growing wider on his face. "I am, I promise," he said. "No killing Mycroft."

Stranger: "Good," Lestrade smiled, relaxing slightly. He bent down and hugged John. "Night," he whispered.

You: John sat for a moment before hugging back. "Good night, Greg," he murmured back, squeezing tightly before letting go. He was glad that there was no awkwardness between them; the contact was actually kind of nice.

Stranger: "I'll try to come by tomorrow, if you want," Lestrade said, slipping his coat on. "I'll text you, alright?"

You: "Sure," John replied agreeably. "See you tomorrow then." He waved and yawned again, one hand covering his mouth.

Stranger: "Bye," Lestrade chuckled as John yawned. He left the hospital and got in his car, sending a quick text to Mycroft after he shut his door. Be home in a few minutes, babe. Just leaving the hospital. -GL

You: I was getting a little worried but I figured you were just caught up talking. John doing better, love? - MH

Stranger: Seems to be. We actually had a pretty long talk about Sherlock. -GL

You: I'm surprised at that. John is willing to talk about him now? - MH

Stranger: He was smiling and laughing and telling me stories about him. -GL

You: I'm glad he's able to smile and laugh now. Seeing him so sunk down into himself was maddening since I know exactly how to stop it. - MH

Stranger: He still looks upset, you can see it in his eyes once in a while. It's still maddening. I told him a story about how you said Sherlock had the same blood type as him. -GL

You: You did? How did he react to it? - MH

Stranger: In a word? Shocked. -GL

You: I'm not surprised. Though I am surprised he didn't already know. Sherlock likes to experiment on everything and everyone. - MH

Stranger: I guess he never bothered John for blood. By the sound of it, John never heard him mention their blood, nor did he ever experiment on his. -GL

You: Did he mention anything about the transfusion? Does he remember what happened? - MH

Stranger: Yes, he does. But he said it was a dream. I told him that a friend of yours named Steven gave him the blood. And that Steven lives in the United States. -GL

You: Very good cover, love. And I am relieved he believes it to be a dream. Though I would like to be very far away when he realizes it wasn't. John is still a very good shot. - MH

Stranger: So he was telling me. We have a date on the shooting range together after he gets out. -GL

You: A... date? - MH

Stranger: No, no, no! Not what I meant! Not that kind of date, babe! -GL

You: Just so we're clear on that then. I don't share, love. - MH

Stranger: I don't want you to, babe. -GL

You: All right, good. How good are you anyway? I've never watched you practice. - MH

Stranger: I'm fair. Best in my division but who's counting? -GL

You: You say you're the best in your division but only fair. Are you being modest or are your coworkers really that bad? - MH

Stranger: Both. -GL

You: When are you getting back? I miss you, love. - MH

Stranger: If you let me drive, about twenty minutes. -GL

You: I would say sorry, but I'm really not. I like talking with you. But I will let you drive. See you soon, Greg. - MH

Stranger: See you soon, love of my life. <3 -GL

You: What does the less than sign and the three mean? And do you really mean that, love? - MH

Stranger: Yes, I really mean it babe. And it's a heart. You've never seen a texting heart? -GL

You: No I haven't. And I wish you were here right now because I'd hug the breath out of you. - MH

Stranger: Sounds painful. You want to kill me or something? Should I be sleeping with one eye open? -GL

You: Not at all, Greg. I wish I could convey laughter through texts. Your answer had me laughing loudly. I just want to hug you. I love you so much. - MH

Stranger: Love? Do you mean lol? -GL

You: l... o... l? What exactly does that mean? - MH

Stranger: Baby, you're so cute when you're in denial. Lol means laugh out loud. It's what people use when they want to say something is funny and, as you put it "convey laughter." -GL

You: That's good to know. Thank you, love. And denial? What am I in denial about? - MH

Stranger: Oh, nevermind my dearest. I'll see you at home, okay? You are the love of my life <3\. -GL

You: I really do enjoy seeing that. See you soon, love. - MH

Stranger: Lestrade smiled and pocketed the cell phone. He turned the car on and raced home, running up the stairs to his flat and running right to Mycroft, panting slightly in the doorway.

You: Mycroft wrapped his arms around Greg, folding him into a tight hug. "Welcome back, love," Mycroft murmured in his ear.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled back and crashed their lips together, cupping Mycroft's face in his hands.

You: Humming into the kiss, Mycroft moved one hand to the nape of Greg's neck. They stood there for several moments, tongues dancing in each other's mouth.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned and kissed Mycroft deeply, running his hand down to Mycroft's butt and cupping it playfully. He nipped at Mycroft's lip and chuckled darkly.

You: Mycroft couldn't stop the gasp that escaped his lips but nipped at Greg's bottom lip in retaliation. He swiped his tongue over it gently, soothing the slight burn. His other hand slipped down to the hem of Greg's shirt and teased it up to run his fingers over the thin stripe of skin revealed.

Stranger: Lestrade hissed at the touch and felt his heart rate speed up. His hand curled around Mycroft's thigh and played between his legs. He ran a finger over the fabric over Mycroft gently, making sure to touch everything.

You: Grinning now into their kiss, Mycroft moved his hand up Greg's chest, dragging the shirt with it. He trailed nails over Greg's stomach until reaching his nipples, twisting one between two fingers.

Stranger: "Good lord... Mycroft..." Lestrade moaned. He knew they shouldn't do anything too rough with Mycroft's wound. But he felt himself quickly losing control.

You: "Yes, Greg?" Mycroft whispered, his lips pressing against Greg's with each syllable. He turned his head and trailed kisses down Greg's jaw until he could suck on the soft skin underneath his jaw.

Stranger: "As much as I really don't want to... We should stop..." Lestrade said, leaning into Mycroft.

You: "You're probably right," Mycroft said sadly. He pressed more kisses to Greg's neck but dropped his hand, allowing the shirt to slide back down.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned at the loss of contact and looked at Mycroft sadly. Almost a week of no contact and when they finally start, he had to call Mycroft off.

You: "Doesn't mean I can't still kiss you, though," Mycroft said, drawing Greg through the house and up to the bedroom. "And I definitely mean to do that."

Stranger: "I want that," Lestrade said, running his hands down Mycroft and stopping on his sides. "But I want more..." He slid his hands lower to Mycroft's hips, pressing in slightly.

You: "I do too, love," Mycroft said, running a hand down Greg's chest. "But I really don't want to pop my stitches again."

Stranger: "I don't want you to either..." Lestrade said, backing up slightly to let his eyes scan Mycroft, pausing longingly on the small bulge that forced itself against his fabric. He subconsciously licked his lips.

You: Mycroft brushed his thumb over Greg's lips, following the path his tongue had taken. He grinned and said, "Why don't we go gently and see how it goes?"

Stranger: "We can try," Lestrade smiled, letting one of his hands slid in to cup Mycroft's length in his palm.

You: Mycroft groaned lightly at the contact and enjoyed it for a moment before stepping back. "How about slowly as well," he suggested. "Because if we don't, I don't think gentle will be on the table."

Stranger: "Ohh..." Lestrade moaned, smiling. "Ok."

You: Leaning in to capture Greg's lips again, Mycroft kept the kiss light before gently pressing his tongue through the other man's lips. His hands kneaded at Greg's shoulders, rubbing circles into tense muscles.

Stranger: Lestrade placed his hands on the sides of Mycroft's stomach again, running his thumbs in circles. Lestrade tilted his head slightly more to the side to let Mycroft deepen the kiss even more when he was ready. Gently, Lestrade pressed closer to Mycroft, hoping that wasn't too fast.

You: Mycroft hummed again in pleasure, slowly walking backward with Greg until they bumped into the bed. He pulled the other man down onto it with him, settling on their sides and wrapping his arms around Greg again.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled, pulling back from the kiss and kissing Mycroft's soft neck. He nuzzled it playfully, then took the humming of Mycroft's shirt in his hand.

You: Mycroft tilted his head back so Greg could reach more of his neck so he didn't see when Greg grabbed his shirt. He did feel a sudden rush of cool air as it was unbuttoned and pushed open.

Stranger: "Too fast?" Lestrade asked as the fabric flowed around his lover's body. He placed a hand on top of Mycroft's belly, rubbing it over the soft layer of fluff that covered him there.

You: "No," Mycroft assured him, nuzzling into Greg's neck. "Just fine. It was a bit cold though." He ran a hand down Greg's arm and twined his fingers in the hand resting on his stomach

Stranger: "Aww, I'm sorry, hun," Lestrade cooed, playing with Mycroft's stomach some more.

You: "Why don't you make me forget about it?" Mycroft suggested, his breath ghosting over Greg's neck. "I'm sure you can think of a way or two."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded, smiling, and got on top of Mycroft. He grabbed his hands, watching the wound, and held them above Mycroft's head with a single hand. "You need to tell me if anything I do hurts, ok babe?"

You: "Of course, love," Mycroft nodded, relaxing the muscles in his arms. He'd never allowed any of his previous partners to hold him like this but felt implicit trust in Greg.

Stranger: "Good," Lestrade bent down to whisper directly into Mycroft's ear. He nipped it and pressed his whole weight against Mycroft, locking their legs together.

You: Mycroft shuddered at the warm voice and the sound shot directly south. He lifted his head enough to kiss and lick at Greg's pulse point, hammering underneath his skin.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned at the touch of Mycroft's mouth and slowly started grinding his hips against his. He stopped, realizing how fast he was going, and paused just to let Mycroft lick his neck for a moment.

You: "It's ok," Mycroft murmured, pressing kisses on Greg's collarbone. "You don't have to stop yourself from moving completely. It felt really good."

Stranger: Lestrade couldn't answer, knowing his vocals would fail him. He gently started grinding his hips again, moving slowly and longingly.

You: Mycroft moved with him, the leisurely pace driving him to distraction. It was different and wonderful, something they hadn't done yet. Always before, they were less gentle and more hurried. This was perfection wrapped in a single moment

Stranger: "Babe? I wasn't lying... You really are the love of my life," Lestrade whispered, voice heavy with lust.

You: Shivering at the words and the tone, Mycroft placed another kiss on Greg's lips and whispered, "And I think you're mine. I love you, Greg."

Stranger: "I love you, too, Mycroft," Lestrade whispered back. He continued the pace on Mycroft's hips, keeping it slow and gentle. He made long, wide circles with his hips, kissing Mycroft's neck gently, barely brushing his lips against the skin.

You: Freeing one hand, Mycroft slid it under Greg's shirt to draw the fabric up. This time, he completed the gesture and lifted it up over his head. Dropping the shirt on the ground, Mycroft smoothed his hand over Greg's back.

Stranger: Lestrade hissed at the cold air that abused his skin, but relaxed as he felt Mycroft's hand. Slowly, the hand not holding Mycroft's other hand still above his head, slid between them to take the button on Mycroft's jeans.

You: Mycroft's hips bucked up, giving silent permission for Greg to undo his jeans. He skimmed his hand over Greg's back, rubbing at the tensing muscles as Greg moved.

Stranger: Lestrade worked the button through the hole, he lead the zipper down as slowly as he could, licking the underside of Mycroft's jaw. He worked the jeans down Mycroft's legs with one hand, running his palm over Mycroft's butt slower than the rest of his body.

You: Mycroft unwrapped his legs from Greg's so the other man could slide his jeans off. He tangled them up again, the feel of Greg's cloth-covered legs on his bare ones making him shiver.

Stranger: Lestrade felt Mycroft tremble under him and kissed his cheek gently. "You okay, love? No pain right?"

You: "Not at all," Mycroft replied, smiling at Greg. "Though the slow part of this is fun, it's also a bit frustrating."

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled and ran a hand under the band of Mycroft's boxers. He ventured lower, feeling his fingertips brush the thick mess of hair under the fabric.

You: Mycroft groaned at the touch and his hips arched up. He could feel himself hardening further under Greg's soft touches and ached for him to move his hand lower.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled his hand back out a little, teasing Mycroft by making him wait. He bit Mycroft's lower lip and ran a single finger under the band again.

You: Mycroft's mouth opened when Greg nipped him, his tongue darting out to touch delicately at Greg's lips. His free hand tightened on Greg's back, pulling the man closer to him until their bare chests rested against each other.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled and ran his whole hand under the band. He messed around in the hair, playing just along the edge of Mycroft's erection, not heading anywhere near the head yet. He kissed Mycroft softly on the lips, his eyes closing in bliss

You: Melting into the kiss, Mycroft could feel all the muscles that had tensed up relax. He ran his tongue over Greg's teeth and across the roof of his mouth, relearning the taste of the man he loved.

Stranger: Lestrade slowly ran fingers around Mycroft's hard length. He grabbed in gently, then let go to work on getting the fabric off his lover's hips.

You: He arched his hips up to help Greg slide his boxers down. After resting back on the bed, his free hand wandered down Greg's side and went to the button of his jeans.  
Stranger: Lestrade raised his hips off Mycroft to allow him better grip on the button. He let the boxers stop of Mycroft's ankles and quickly grabbed Mycroft's erection in his hand.

You: "Slow down a little, love," Mycroft gasped, fingers going slack on Greg's button.

Stranger: Lestrade frowned and let go. "S-sorry..." He blushed deeply, backing off Mycroft's erection.

You: "Don't be," Mycroft said, rubbing his hand over Greg's stomach. "I just want this to last. I haven't been able to really touch you for almost a week." He moved his hand back down and undid the button and zipper, pushing the slide the jeans down Greg's hips.

Stranger: "I know... I just want you... You helpless like this, on your back. It's really arousing," Lestrade whispered, watching Mycroft's face as he worked.

You: Mycroft bit his lip at the words, then leaned up to nip at Greg's neck again. "And hearing you say that is just as arousing, love," Mycroft said, his voice hoarse. He pushed Greg's jeans off as far as he could reach.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled to Mycroft, stroking his stomach. "I love your body," he whispered gently, bothering his own bottom lip.

You: Chuckling, Mycroft moved his hand back to Greg's waist and held him. "I love yours, too," he whispered back

Stranger: "It's so perfect..." Lestrade whispered, his eyes feeding hungrily.

You: "I don't really think so," Mycroft said, looking down at himself. "Still trying to lose a few pounds."

Stranger: "Why? You're smaller than me," Lestrade said, looking at himself in disgust.

You: "Not really," Mycroft chuckled. He brushed his hand over Greg's cheek before pressing another kiss to his lips. "I look smaller because I'm lying underneath you. But you are perfect as you are, love."

Stranger: "You are definitely smaller, love," Lestrade said, looking over the both of them again, his eyes dancing over Mycroft's body.

You: "Whatever you say," Mycroft laughed. "How about we stop arguing and you keep distracting me." He bucked his hips again, pressing himself into Greg's hips

Stranger: "If you want big old fat me," Lestrade chuckled, kissing Mycroft on the cheek and working his way to his lips.

You: "I already told you, you're perfect, love," Mycroft said against Greg's lips. "Not fat at all." He silenced any further argument by kissing Greg deeply, wrapping his tongue around the other man's.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned into Mycroft's lips, pulling him closer to his body. "Can you... Remove my... Boxers?" He asked between kissing.

You: Mycroft gripped the waistband of Greg's boxers and pushed them down, cupping his bottom for a moment before continuing. "Like that?" Mycroft whispered, humor threading through his voice.

Stranger: Lestrade hissed at Mycroft's touch. "Yes... Please..." He said, his voice hot and needy.

You: Mycroft slid them down as far as he could reach then waited while Greg kicked them off. His hand travelled back up to Greg's behind and kneaded gently.

Stranger: "Ohhhhh... Mycroft..." Lestrade moaned, tilting his head to the side and closing his eyes as their erections touched and Mycroft kneaded his butt.

You: Mycroft took the open invitation and nuzzled his head into Greg's neck again. He sucked hard at his pulse point, leaving a red mark.

Stranger: "God..." Lestrade hummed happily, smiling like an idiot.

You: "Nope, hope you'll settle for me," Mycroft joked, then swiped his tongue over the bruise.

Stranger: "You are -my- god," Lestrade chuckled, moving to kiss Mycroft again.

You: Before Mycroft could laugh at the corny joke, he was kissed thoroughly. He could only tighten his hold on Greg as his mouth was plundered. He leaned back and enjoyed the feeling of surrendering. Of being taken by someone he loved.

Stranger: Lestrade brushed his tongue over Mycroft's lips. He ran his hand down slowly, taking Mycroft's erection in his hand. He waited for Mycroft to say it was "too fast."

You: Mycroft groaned at the contact, hips pumping into Greg's hand. He didn't want to slow down now, didn't want to stop. This felt too good.

Stranger: Lestrade move Mycroft's hurt arm to the side before starting the pumping with his hand. He continued to kiss his lips gently and smiled at the noises he made.

You: Mouth open in panting gasps, Mycroft moved his hips in a steady rhythm. He couldn't think anymore, the twinges from the wound in his arm barely noticeable. All he could feel was Greg and it was wonderful.

Stranger: Lestrade pumped his hand a little faster, moaning at the sounds Mycroft was making. He sat on Mycroft's leg and moved his hips, making friction between Mycroft's leg and his erection.

You: "Love, need more," Mycroft murmured into Greg's neck when he could catch enough breath to do so. "Need you."

Stranger: Lestrade's eyes grew wide and he released Mycroft's other hand. He scrambled down to between Mycroft's legs and put Mycroft's legs up. He pressed a finger to Mycroft's entrance and kissed Mycroft's stomach.

You: Mycroft caught Greg's eyes, unable to speak again. He tried to convey his love and need for the man, hoping Greg would understand that he wanted him to continue.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled and nipped the skin on Mycroft's stomach, pressing his finger in slightly. He pressed his finger all the way in and paused, curling his finger inside of him.

You: Mycroft gasped and his hips arched up off the bed, pleasure and a little bit of pain flooding him. One hand tangled in Greg's hair and the other fisted in the sheets.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled and pressed a second finger in. He licked over Mycroft's chest and took one of his nipples, taking it between his teeth.

You: Moans and small screams flew from Mycroft's lips as Greg pressed further inside him. The hand that was in the sheets moved to Greg's back and pulled him close while Mycroft's hips pumped against his hand.

Stranger: Lestrade gently twisted Mycroft's nipple and licked over it as it hardened. He let go and ran his tongue down the muscles lower and stopped at the middle of Mycroft's stomach. He pulled his fingers out and pressed three in.

You: "Ohhh, yes, Greg," Mycroft groaned. He sat up enough so he could kiss Greg deeply, his tongue plunging into the other man's mouth. He matched the pace Greg was moving inside him and grinned when Greg gasped into his lips.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled all his fingers out and lined himself up. He ran his tip over Mycroft's entrance and smiled at the gasp. "Can I?" He gasped, taking Mycroft's hips.

You: "Yes," Mycroft breathed, looking into Greg's eyes. "God, yes."

Stranger: Lestrade bit his lip and pushed in. He got all the way in and paused, gasping at the tightness that surrounded him.

You: Mycroft's head dropped back onto the bed as Greg paused, the man filling and stretching him. He wrapped both his arms around Greg's back, smoothing his fingers over the points of his shoulder blades. "I love you," Mycroft whispered.

Stranger: "I love you too, babe," Lestrade said, running his hands over Mycroft's hips. He started moving, slowly and gently pumping.

You: Wrapping his legs around Greg's hips, Mycroft rocked slowly with him. It was unhurried and smooth and sweet, a melding of two bodies and hearts into one. He never wanted it to end, so Mycroft did nothing to hurry along. Just melted into the sensations.

Stranger: "How's your... arm..?" Lestrade panted, keeping the pace slow and gentle. He kissed along Mycroft's chest.

You: "Can't even feel it," Mycroft breathed. "Don't worry about it." He ran his fingers through Greg's hair, twisting a soft lock around one finger. Smiling gently, he leaned up to press kisses against the hollow of Greg's throat.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled and held Mycroft closer. He pumped in deeply, hitting the bundle of nerves. He paused as he did and pushed in farther, hitting the bundle as many times as he could gently, teasingly.

You: Mycroft gasped and whimpered at each thrust. He buried his head in Greg's neck and kissed and sucked the soft skin under his jaw. "Greg," he panted, repeating his lover's name over and over.

Stranger: "Yes?" Lestrade whispered back, nipping Mycroft's ear.

You: "Love you," Mycroft said again. He felt he couldn't say it enough, felt he couldn't apologize enough for what had happened between them before. He rocked a little faster, pressing closer and trying to get as close to Greg as he could.

Stranger: "I love you, I love you, I love you," Lestrade whispered quietly. He pumped harder and kissed Mycroft on the lips needingly.

You: Mycroft opened his mouth and nipped at Greg's lips, sucking on his tongue. They moved against each other, pants and groans filling the room. Unable to keep their languorous pace, Mycroft moved faster and tilted his head to suck at the skin underneath the point of Greg's jaw.

Stranger: "Lord, Mycroft," Lestrade moaned as Mycroft bucked his hips into his. He crashed his lips down against Mycroft's and felt his erection throb inside of him.

You: "Faster, Greg," Mycroft said, skimming his nails over Mycroft's back. "Please, need you to move faster."

Stranger: Lestrade moaned in reply and started pumping faster and harder, more needy than before. "I'm... I'm close..." Lestrade moaned loudly.

You: "Will you touch me, love?" Mycroft asked breathlessly. He kissed Greg again before the man could reply, thrusting his tongue deep inside his mouth.

Stranger: Lestrade wrapped his hand around Mycroft and slowly started pumping his erection. He started matching his pace with his pumping and kissed Mycroft needily.

You: Mycroft screamed as Greg sped up his hand, heat bursting over him. He threw his head back against the pillow, all his muscles stiffening at the feelings coursing through him.

Stranger: "M-Mycroft... My name... scream... my n-name..." Lestrade breathed, his voice becoming hot and lustful. He pressed his forehead into Mycroft's chest and looked down at his hand, his eyes taking in Mycroft hungrily.

You: Mycroft does at a particularly deep thrust, his eyes still closed. He can feel the familiar tightening in his belly and starts moaning Greg's name repeatedly.

Stranger: "Louder..." Lestrade whispered hotly into Mycroft's ear. He thrusted deep and felt his stomach tighten, then stopped it willingly, trying to get it to last.

You: As he felt his orgasm flood through him, Mycroft screamed Greg's name again. He held tightly to him, fingernails making little crescent's in Greg's back.

Stranger: Lestrade yelped at the pain from Mycroft's nails. He bit Mycroft's lip and thrusted deep in again. He moaned and felt his orgasm try to burst from him again.

You: "Don't hold back, love," Mycroft whispered when he can breathe again. He rocked harder into Greg, ignoring the bursts of almost-pain from his sensitive skin.

Stranger: Lestrade screamed as his orgasm finally burst from him. "Mycroft!" He shouted, riding it out in waves.

You: Mycroft smirked at the sound of his name and the feel of Greg inside him. He moved a little longer, pulling Greg through his orgasm. He kissed Greg deeply but gently, pouring his love into the kiss. "I love you, so much," he whispered again.

Stranger: "Mycroft... You are... the love of my life..." Lestrade moaned again, his orgasm ending and him falling on top of Mycroft.

You: "And you're mine," Mycroft replied. He shifted his arms around Greg's back to hold him more comfortably and just listened to the man breathe. This moment was just as perfect as the previous ones. He couldn't imagine living without the DI again.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled out of Mycroft and just lay on top of his lover. He kissed Mycroft's cheek and smiled. "You were so perfect..." He whispered at length, nosing Mycroft's neck.

You: "You too, love," Mycroft replied. He kissed Greg's temple and sighed happily. Now that he was completely relaxed, he could feel exhaustion creeping up on him. Stars glittered through the crack in the curtains over the window.

Stranger: "And your arm?" Lestrade whispered, rolling next to Mycroft and laying on his side. He propped himself up on his elbow to look at Mycroft.

You: Mycroft turned his arm and looked over the wound. The stitches held and there was no blood marring the wound or the sheets. "Fine," Mycroft said happily and turned his arm to show Greg.

Stranger: "Good," Lestrade took Mycroft hand and kissed just next to the wound softly. He twisted their fingers together and gave his hand a loving squeeze.

You: Mycroft yawned and kissed Greg again, a light touch to his lips. "Ready for some sleep?" he asked, smiling at Greg.

Stranger: "Yes," Lestrade yawned back, cuddling up close to Mycroft and resting his head on Mycroft's chest. He wrapped his arm over his stomach.

You: Mycroft moved the arm with the wound out to the side, making sure no pressure was put on it. He moved the other to wrap around Greg's shoulders. He pressed one last kiss to the top of Greg's head and closed his eyes.

Stranger: Lestrade parked his car outside the hospital and went up to John's room. He walked in to see John filling out paperwork in his bed and leaned against the doorframe. "You ready?" He asked, crossing his arms and watching John.

You: "Just about," John replied, smiling at Lestrade. He was getting tired of nurses and hospitals. "A week and a day in here is quite long enough for me."

Stranger: "I bet," Lestrade chuckled. He moved into the room and sat on the bed next to John. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a small red box, handing it to John. "A little something I thought you may like. I don't know, impulse buy, I guess," Lestrade laughed, smiling at John.

You: "Thanks, but you didn't have to," John said, surprise crossing his face as he took the box. He shook it lightly but didn't hear anything. "If you're expecting me to deduce this, you're going to be disappointed," John warned as he started to unwrap the box.

Stranger: "Oh, no! Please don't deduce it!" He laughed again, shaking his head. "I wouldn't expect you to! Only he could do that. I just wanted to cheer you up."

You: John laughed and finished unwrapping the box. He opened it and stared at the small present inside. He turned a quizzical look on Lestrade and asked, "What?"

Stranger: "Don't you know what it is?" Lestrade asked, smiling at John's look.

You: "Is this... an inkwell?" John asked, taking the dark silver bottle out of the box.

Stranger: "Try again," Lestrade smiled, watching John handle the bottle carefully.

You: "I have absolutely no idea," John admitted, running his fingers over the engravings. The little piece was beautiful and he felt strangely drawn to it.

Stranger: "It's an old whiskey bottle from World War I," Lestrade explained, leaning back on his hands. "I know it's silly, I just thought you'd like it."

You: John stared down at the bottle and thought of the history it must have seen. "I do like it," he said quietly. "Thank you, Greg."

Stranger: "You're welcome. I thought you could use something just to cheer you up some," Lestrade pulled John into a one arm hug. "Now, for the second half of your gift..."

You: "Whiskey to go in the bottle?" John asked, returning the hug and laughing.

Stranger: "No, but I should have," Lestrade laughed. "I could go for a drink right now... But no, I'm taking you home."

You: "I like that plan better," John said, placing the silver bottle back in the box. He stood from the bed, having changed a few hours before, and placed it in his jeans pocket. "Ready whenever you are."

Stranger: "Then let's go," Lestrade smiled, walking over to the door and waiting for John. "How's your wrists anyway? ...and the rest of your arms?"

You: "Fine," John replied, staring down at his arms with a mix of sorrow and anger. "They're healing slowly. Eventually, I'll have thin scars. I am so angry with myself now over this. I know my reasoning why but from this vantage point, I don't understand how I could have done it."

Stranger: "I know what you mean," Lestrade nodded as John came up next to him and they started down the hallway. "I used to do it when I was a teenager... I still have scars and now I wonder what in the bloody hell I was thinking. You hate yourself for it but you easily cover them up at the same time."

You: "Well, it's not something I'm going to repeat," John said firmly. "He wouldn't have wanted me to do it. Probably would have called me dull or predictable."

Stranger: "Yeah, that sounds like something he would say, doesn't it?" Lestrade said, looking down at John's wrists. "I doubt he would like it because you were hurting yourself."

You: "Maybe," John replied. "I don't know, though. He did cure my limp because it annoyed him. He'd probably feel the same about this." John blinked his eyes as they walked outside, the sunlight spearing into them.

Stranger: "I'm sure he fixed it more than because it was 'annoying him'. He probably saw the pain it put you in," Lestrade said, opening the car door for John.

You: "I like to think so," John said, sliding into the car. He was abruptly reminded of all the times he'd done this with Sherlock and had to wipe a tear away. "I saw he had a heart even if he didn't want to."

Stranger: Lestrade slid into the driver seat and started the car. "He had one, everyone saw it when you came around," Lestrade said slowly, thinking back to the first day he saw them together. "We just all doubted he would -use- it."

You: "Why was that?" John asked curiously. "And he was worse with cases before I came around? How did you stand him? He must have been a nightmare."

Stranger: Lestrade laughed deeply as he pulled from the parking lot. "Yes, he really was. No one really could stand him, but we needed him and his massive intellect. The team put together couldn't figure out what he could in a few seconds. As much as everyone hated him, we put up with him to keep things moving along."

You: "I'm glad he had someone before I came along," John said, watching the streets flow by. "He always seemed so lonely when he thought no one was watching. And I could hear it, sometimes, when he played the violin. The first time I heard him play I was sure he had a heart. He put it into every note."

Stranger: "He was scared, I think, to show he had one. Everyone called him 'freak' or 'psychopath', if he showed his heart during that..." Lestrade shook his head. "I can only wonder how he must of felt inside... How broken, alone, and upset he must of been. How depressed he must of been to keep it inside... That poor man..."

You: John nodded sadly, not continuing the conversation. He didn't want to think of Sherlock sad and hurting; it only made his own pain worse. He sighed when the car stopped outside 221B and stared at the doorway.

Stranger: Lestrade turned off the car and relaxed back into the seat. He looked at John just staring out at the door and placed a hand on his knee. "You alright?" He asked, giving John's knee a gentle squeeze.

You: "Yeah, just need a minute," John said. He continued to stare at the door, imagining the first time he'd met Mrs. Hudson. The first time Sherlock had shared something about a case he'd worked on.

Stranger: "Want to talk about it?" Lestrade asked gently, leaning forward to see if John was really staring at the door. "Something is obviously on your mind."

You: "Memories are on my mind," John said ruefully. "Everywhere I go, I'm reminded of him. Things he said, things I said to him, things we did. I can't even go to Angelo's anymore."

Stranger: Lestrade removed his hand from John's knee and sat back with a sigh. "I understand," He nodded slowly, thinking of what to say. "I was the same way when I was away from Mycroft. But I tried to move on, found someone to help me keep my mind off him. Maybe you can't do that and get another relationship going right away, seeing how ours... didn't really help in the end. But maybe you can get someone to hang out with more? Solve crimes with or just go to the clinic together. Something you both enjoy doing, something to keep your mind busy and not focused on Sherlock."

You: John thought about that for a few moments, wondering if he even could try to solve cases with someone else. He shook his head and replied, "Well, if we could go out to grab a pint sometimes, that would help. And I'm going to concentrate on writing for a while."

Stranger: "Whenever you want to, I'm here," Lestrade tried to smile. "Plus we have that shooting range to show up."

You: "That sounds like fun," John said, smiling. "I miss going to a proper range." He took a deep breath and got out of the car, walking slowly towards the door. His limp wasn't as bad today, though he would have felt sturdier had he had his cane.

Stranger: Lestrade got out and walked John up to his flat. He didn't want to leave the man just yet, seeing how broken he really was just walking inside. How could he live here? Wake up each morning in this flat?

You: John made his way up the stairs and didn't hesitate in unlocking the door to the flat. He walked inside and looked around, Sherlock's distinctive scent strong in the flat. John tilted his head, confused about why it was so strong after so long.

Stranger: Lestrade watched John pause just inside the doorway, not knowing if he should say something or not. He leaned against the doorframe and just watched John slowly enter the flat, looking confused.

You: "Do you know if... anyone was here while I was gone?" John asked quietly, his eyes skimming over everything in the flat. His gaze was drawn to the mantle, to the skull he'd spent hours talking to while he was alone in the flat. The skull had been turned, the jaw facing towards the window rather than the kitchen.

Stranger: "No one that I know of," Lestrade said, perking up and walking in to stand next to John and glance around the flat. "Is something missing?"

You: "Not missing, no," John mused. "More like added. It smells like that aftershave he used to use. Haven't smelled it in a few months now. And the skull has been moved." Moving to the mantle, John picked up the skull and studied it. His eyes were drawn to a square of white marring the brown of the mantle.

Stranger: "He?" Lestrade asked, moving over to the mantle as well. "As in Sherlock?"

You: "Yes," John said simply, still staring at the white piece of paper. It had been folded precisely, John's name written elegantly on it. "It's hard for me to say his name still." John picked up the paper, placing the skull back down, and moved to sink down into his armchair.

Stranger: "You said it fine a few days ago, in the hospital..." Lestrade said, sitting across from John in Sherlock's old armchair.

You: "Some days are easier than others," John admitted. "Do you recognize this writing?" John held the paper up to Lestrade, turning it so his name faced outward. "It looks familiar to me but I can't place it," John continued.

Stranger: "I..." Lestrade said, shaking his head. "It looks familiar... but... it can't be..."

You: "Whose do you think it is?" John asked. He could see shock in Lestrade's eyes and wondered if the man was thinking the same thing he was. "Tell me I'm not crazy."

Stranger: "I think it's... It's Sherlock's... but it can't be, unless he put it there before he..." Lestrade cut off, shaking his head slowly.

You: "It looks like his writing," John agreed, staring at his name. "But its different. This looks more like calligraphy than handwriting. As if he wanted it to look so ornate."

Stranger: "Maybe it's important?" Lestrade shrugged. He stood and stretched. "I need to get back home, though. I have a meeting tonight that starts in an hour, so I really need to go to my flat and get ready."

You: "All right," John replied absently, only part of his brain concentrating on what Lestrade was saying. He looked up, smiled and said, "See you in a few days then?"

Stranger: "Of course," Lestrade smiled back and hugged John quickly. "I'll text you."

You: John hugged him back, still surprised at the physical contact between them. He wasn't sure he was going to get used to it but he liked it. "Drive safe, Greg." All of a sudden, he couldn't wait for Lestrade to leave. He wanted to open the note alone.

Stranger: Lestrade nodded and shut the door behind him. He made his way down to his car and quickly sent a message to Sherlock. Did you go into your old flat? -GL

You: I did. I wanted to tell him something to keep him going until I could come back. - SH

Stranger: Well, he smelled you, Sherlock. And whatever you put under the skull, you put it back the wrong way. -GL

You: I moved the skull on purpose so he'd find the note. And he smelled me? I didn't know John's sense of smell was that strong. Now I see why he complained about the experiments that involved vinegar or decaying body parts. - SH

Stranger: Even I could smell it, Sherlock. Your aftershave or whatever it was is -strong-! -GL

You: It is? I barely put any on at all. Did he read the note? What did he say? - SH

Stranger: I had to leave. He didn't open it before I left. What was it, Sherlock? You sound excited? Maybe, is that the word? -GL

You: It's just some things that I should have told him a while ago. And I want to know how he reacts to it. I want to know if he smiles. - SH

Stranger: I'll ask him about it next time I see him. For now, I have to go. I have a meeting in 50 minutes and I still need to go home before I head there. -GL

You: All right. Thank you for bringing him home. I wish I could have done it myself. - SH

Stranger: I know you do, Sherlock. I'll talk to you tonight, okay? I'll text you. -GL

You: Fine. Let me know if you've found anything on Moran then as well. - SH

Stranger: Will do. Bye, Sherlock. -GL

You: Goodbye Lestrade. - SH

Stranger: Lestrade pulled out of the parking lot and made his way home.

You: Still in his comfy red armchair, John stared at the small square of paper cradled in his fingers. He almost didn't want to open it, wanted to keep these last words from Sherlock secret and safe. Right now, they could say anything. Slowly, he unfolded the paper and pressed the creases straight. Taking a deep breath, John began to read.

Stranger: John, if you are in fact reading this, then I am, more than likely, dead. Also, I left without saying a few things to you that you really should know. I've been flatmates with you for a while now, a long while, and you put up with a lot of things that I've done. Shooting the wall, crazy experiments with various body parts, heads in the fridge; you name it, you stuck by my side. You stayed with me through a lot, and first off, thank you. I never told you, but thank you. No one has stood by me like you have, and it means everything and something else to me. You're the first real friend I really ever had, and I'm lucky! Over time, things have started to bother me, though. Things I couldn't find a meaning for. I never really dealt with emotions, John, as you know. I always pushed them away, they were a disadvantage. Something to only slow me down, so I thought. Turns out, I was wrong. John, being around you made my brain work ten times better. You were my personal drug, something to get my brain working again. Around you, I always was able to think more clearly, figure things out faster than I used to be able to before you. I couldn't figure out what was happening to me for the longest time; it bugged me at night. I stayed up on fake cases trying to figure out what you were doing to me. I finally figured it out, John. After months, I figured out I am in love with you. You're always on my mind, clouding over anything that wasn't important. My heart races when you get close to me. I would like to say my pupils dilate, but I was never able to test that without you knowing what I was doing. I know, for a fact, that I am in love with you, and I also know that I will never be able to tell you. Not to your face. I've tried, and failed each time. Every time I start, and you look at me, I lose my nerve and have to come up with something else to fill in the what-would-be awkwardness. I hate your dates. I hate how you leave me for a woman for hours. I wish I could, in some way, tell you. I'm in love with you. You and only you. I'm normally able to shut this out, but I can't shut you out. I love you, John H. Watson. But I'll never know how you feel about me. Goodbye, John. I love you, Sherlock Holmes.

You: John felt tears rolling down his face before he was even halfway through the letter. Every word, every sentence echoed in John's head in Sherlock's voice. This was what he'd hoped to hear after he allowed himself to acknowledge his love for the brilliant madman. This was what he'd resigned himself to never hearing. After reaching the end of the letter, he let it fall into his lap and dropped his head into his hands. "I love you too, Sherlock," John whispered. "I wish you had told me." He fell silent then, the only sound in the flat his sobbing as he broke down over the love he'd lost.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: Morning John. -GL

You: Morning. - JW

Stranger: What was that note? -GL

You: Something... from him. He wrote me before he... died. - JW

Stranger: Like a... will? -GL

You: No, like a goodbye. He sounded like he knew he was going to die. - JW

Stranger: Knowing him, he probably deduced it somewhere along the road. -GL

You: Maybe. I can't believe what he wrote, though. I keep rereading it, expecting the words to change into something cold and disinterested. - JW

Stranger: Are they not? -GL

You: No.... - JW

Stranger: What are they then? -GL

You: He... he told me.... You know what, can you come over? Read it for yourself? - JW

Stranger: Uh... sure. Mycroft's asleep, I'm sure I can sneak out of here for a little. -GL

You: Thanks, Greg. I could really use some company right about now. And someone else to tell me these words really are here. - JW

Stranger: Give me about ten minutes and I'll be there. -GL

You: Thanks. See you then. - JW

Stranger: No problem. -GL Lestrade pocketed the phone and gently slid out of bed, making sure not to wake Mycroft. He had slept in the clothes he came home from the meeting in (minus shirt, which was Mycroft's doing) due to the lateness of the meeting. He slipped on a clean shirt and tied his shoes, slipping out the door almost noiselessly. He drove to John's flat and knocked on the door.

You: John opened the door and limped slowly back to his armchair. The letter was laying on Sherlock's chair. John hadn't been able to let it out of his sight all night. He waved at it as Lestrade walked in.

Stranger: Lestrade watched John, obvious bags under his eyes, slumped back into his armchair. He went over to Sherlock's chair and picked up the paper, sitting down as he did so. He read the note at least three times through, mouth open.

You: "So, does it say he... loved me?" John asked, throat dry with fear and anticipation. "That is what I read, right?"

Stranger: Lestrade could only nod. His eyes slid up the paper to rest on John, watching him for the reaction.

You: John sighed and felt a smile crease his face. This was what he'd hoped for, hoped that Sherlock had felt the same way he did. The smile grew wider as the last words rippled through his mind again. "He loved me," John repeated, awe in his voice.

Stranger: "He did..." Lestrade smiled, tears of joy threatening his eyes.

You: John looked down at the letter in Lestrade's hands and held out his hand. He wanted it back, hell, wanted to frame the thing. The final words Sherlock would ever give him and they were that he loved him.

Stranger: Lestrade quickly handed John the note, making sure not to damage it. He knew how much of the world this meant to him. It probably was the world to him now.

You: John smoothed his fingers over the paper, tracing the letters with a single finger. He couldn't keep the smile off his face as he reread the words again. Standing, he placed it on the mantle and stood back, making sure it rested safely there.

Stranger: Lestrade stood and placed a hand on John's shoulder. "Are you okay now?" He asked, giving John's shoulder a squeeze.

You: "Yeah," John said, turning his smile on Lestrade. "It's real. That's all that matters right now. Thanks."

Stranger: "I know it's early, but do you want to go for a drink? Celebrate?" Lestrade smiled, looking back at the note before looking back at John's beaming face.

You: "A drink?" John repeated. He shook his head and said, "No, I'm not really in the mood for one right now. But if you're up for it, heading to the shooting range sounds like a good plan."

Stranger: "I'm up for it," Lestrade smiled, he nodded his head at the door. "Shall we?"

You: John nodded then held up a finger to tell Lestrade to wait. He headed upstairs, moving without his limp for once in the last 5 months. Grabbing his gun, John darted back downstairs and grinned again. He walked out the door with Lestrade and folded himself into the other man's car.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled as he started the car, wanting so bad to get his gun from the back trunk. He pulled out of the parking lot and smiled wider as John was beaming out the window, looking like an excited kid going to the toy store.

You: "This is something I really should have thought of doing with Sherlock," John said suddenly. "He always had a fascination with guns. Told you he shot the wall when he was bored."

Stranger: "Yeah, you guys would have had fun doing this," Lestrade said, smiling slightly. He turned into the shooting range and parked the car.

You: John got out of the car and checked his gun. It still rested snugly against the small of his back, a comforting weight. He waited while Lestrade open his trunk.

Stranger: Lestrade took the gun out of the trunk and hooked its case to his belt, where he always rested it. He smiled as he shut the back and went over to join John, starting up to the front entrance.

You: John walked inside with Lestrade, inhaling deeply. The familiar smell of cordite and metal greeted his senses and he could feel adrenaline start to pump through his veins. "You have any extra ammo?" John asked. "I've only got the one clip with me."

Stranger: "No, we can buy some though," Lestrade said, pointing towards the little shop that carried all the ammo and gun rental.

You: John nodded and bought enough ammunition to fill the clip on his gun three times. He paid for it and carried the box to one of the tables. He checked over each bullet quickly, making sure there were no surface defects.

Stranger: Lestrade did the same, carrying his box over to a table next to John's. He looked over the bullets and, when he was satisfied, he clicked the ammo he brought into his gun, then waited for John to do that same before saying, "Ready to see what an expert looks like?"

You: "Sure, you're ready for that?" John said, smirking. "I'm told my marksmanship can make people swoon."

Stranger: Lestrade returned the smirk. "I guess you did get Sherlock," he smiled. "You first, then."

You: John picked up the box of bullets and his gun and waited until the range was clear. He picked a spot, hung up the targeting paper, and watched as it sped down the range on its little pulley. Taking a deep breath, John sighted on the little man-shaped silhouette. Squeezing the trigger gently, John placed three rounds in the heart section, three in the head, and three in the center of the chest. He squeezed off the last three rounds and didn't particularly aim where they went. The last three landed in the throat of the target.

Stranger: Lestrade watched as John made all deadly hits. His mouth fell open as he watched and his eyebrows perked up when John had finished.

You: "How about we trade off?" John suggested. "We each shoot a clip. That way, one of us isn't standing there doing nothing."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded and stepped up to the range as John stepped away. He set up the silhouette and took a deep breath before aiming down the barrel. He closed his eyes and let his breath out, before opening them, aiming quickly, and sending three bullets into the chest of the target. He set off another set of three to the man's shoulder, then to the heart section. He took another deep breath before shooting off the last three into the man's right side of his head. Lestrade straightened up and sighed, happy where they all landed.

You: "You're good," John said, clapping Lestrade on the shoulder. He grinned as the silhouette flew back towards them. "You definitely would have had a place in the military had you gone that route." He set up his own target again and worked through his clip a little slower than before. He wanted to enjoy this, feel like he was alive again.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled as he watched John shoot. His face was straight, but you could see the enjoyment in the man. Lestrade could see how focused John was by his eyes alone and his stance was so at peace, yet strong.

You: John sighed as his gun clicked emptily. He brought the target back and smiled at the more random pattern. Stepping back, he allowed Lestrade to take his place.

Stranger: Lestrade set up his target and aimed down the barrel again. He fired the round a little quicker than before, acting like he would out on his job if he needed to.

You: John watched Lestrade shoot, noting his easy and relaxed stance. They both used the classic Weaver stance for shooting but were very different in how they stood. Lestrade stood with his shoulders tighter than John did, almost as if he was holding up the gun with his entire body.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled as he brought the target back and stepped out of the way for John. He looked over the target quickly, realizing he missed twice.

You: John set up his next target and watched as it swung out over the range. He thought about what he was going to do with this one and decided to try a difficult pattern he'd only been able to complete once in the military. Sighting carefully, John emptied his clip again and pulled the silhouette back. A perfect square was traced in the middle, though three shots had gone high.

Stranger: "Wow..." Lestrade said, stepping up next to John to look as well. "Impressive."

You: "Thanks," John said, a pleased flush rising on his face. "That's the best I've been able to do that pattern since basic training."

Stranger: "Still impressive," Lestrade smiled, placing a hand on John's shoulder.

You: John grinned at Lestrade and moved aside to allow the DI to take his place.

Stranger: Lestrade set up his target and aimed again. He took his time this round and shot carefully. He shot all of them almost perfect in the heart section. He straightened up and smiled as he looked at the target flying back to him.

You: "Now that's impressive," John remarked, staring at the large hole. "And you say you're only fair." John set up his last target and watched as it flew down the range. He thought about what he wanted to do this time. He grinned to himself and shot at the target, placing all his bullets in the head. When the silhouette flew back, a smiley face was shaped over the head.

Stranger: "You're kidding me," Lestrade laughed, watching John pull the target down.

You: "I've gotten used to the one on the wall," John laughed. "Thought I might make my own in a place where Mrs. Hudson won't raise the rent."

Stranger: "Good idea," Lestrade laughed, stepping up to the range and shooting as close to the heart section as he could. He hit the head a few times and completely missed on two.

You: "Well, I think we've killed our share of black shadow men," John joked, the grin still on his face. "How about we call this visit to the range?"

Stranger: "Sounds good, great job," Lestrade said, smiling and clasping a hand on John's shoulder and leading him out of the range.

You: "You want to get some lunch?" John asked, the happiness and adrenaline keeping exhaustion at bay for a little longer.

Stranger: "I'd love to," Lestrade said, folding into his car and leaving his gun on his belt. He waited till John was in the car before asking, "Where do you want to go? Your choice."

You: "How about Chinese?" John suggested, sitting back in his seat. The weight of the gun at the small of his back was reassuring. It reminded him of the time he'd spent with Sherlock. That note and shooting today had made him feel more alive than all the last 6 months combined.

Stranger: "I'm up for it," Lestrade smiled. John looked so at peace and relaxed. This was the best he's seen John in half a year.

You: "There's a place over on 10th that I went to with Mike Stamford once," John continued. "They were pretty good if you want to head there."

Stranger: "Sounds perfect," Lestrade said, taking the turn to start to head down to 10th.

You: John sat in silence, content to grin out the window at the streets and people. Today was a good day. He'd even been able to say Sherlock's name. That letter changed everything.

Stranger: Lestrade enjoyed the peaceful silence. It wasn't stressed or upsetting like other silences between them had been lately; it was quiet and calm and peaceful. Lestrade pulled into the lot and parked the car, opening his door and walking around the back of the car to wait for John to join him.

You: John shook himself out of his thoughts and got out of the car. He joined Lestrade and the two men walked into the Chinese restaurant. John looked over the menu and decided to try something he'd never ordered before.

Stranger: Lestrade ordered what he normally got at Chinese places; orange chicken and noodles. He waited for John to order, scanning for a place for the two of them to sit.

You: John scanned the menu and found something that sounded interesting. After placing an order for scallops and vegetables in garlic sauce, he took a cup of tea and joined Lestrade at the table the man had chosen.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled and sipped at his tea as John joined him. They sat by a back window, looking into a small forested area that looked like a park. Lestrade leaned on the table and looked out the window. "This is nice," he purred.

You: "Yes it is," John agreed, sipping his tea. "It's amazing the difference a few words make. Even though I know I'll never hear them to my face, it makes such a difference knowing he felt that way."

Stranger: "I'm sure," Lestrade said, turning his attention back to John. "You really loved him that much, didn't you?"

You: "I do still love him," John said. He continued looking out the window, sipping his tea. His mind spun a pleasing fantasy of him and Sherlock examining the plants in the small park. Or just walking quietly after chasing a criminal down.

Stranger: "That's really..." Lestrade thought for a minute, trying to choose the right word. "Cute? Romantic?" He laughed.

You: John laughed with him, finally turning to look at Lestrade. "Maybe it is," he agreed. "But it's how I feel. I think it's always how I'm going to feel." He looked up as a waiter brought their food out. The scallops looked really good.

Stranger: Lestrade dug into his noodles and laughed as some if the orange sauce sprayed his face. He got most of it off with his napkin before having to ask John where else it flew.

You: "There's some on your shirt," John said, pointing with a chopstick. He laughed at the dismayed look on Lestrade's face. "Cool water should help," he offered.

Stranger: "Any more on my face though?" Lestrade asked, straining to see the stain.

You: "No," John laughed. "You got it all. There is some on your ear though. Don't know how the sauce made it all the way there."

Stranger: "Where?" Lestrade asked, brushing the napkin aimlessly. "And we don't ask questions on the magic of the flying sauce." he laughed.

You: John raised an eyebrow but shook his head. "It's on the earlobe," he said, pointing again.

Stranger: Lestrade brushed the spot John was pointing to. He set his napkin back down and started into his chicken. "It never matters how much you eat this dish, you are always going to get some flung on you," Lestrade said, chuckling slightly.

You: "Maybe that's why people keep ordering it," John joked, eating a vegetable. "To see if they can eat it neatly."

Stranger: "Maybe," Lestrade smiled. "How's your dish? Looks fairly neat."

You: "It's really good," John said. "I've never had garlic scallops before. They always looked like they'd be squishy."

Stranger: "And they aren't?" Lestrade asked, attempting another noodle and getting it into his mouth without a splash.

You: "Not really," John replied, surprised. "They're kind of fleshy like shrimp. And the vegetables are perfect."

Stranger: "Sounds good," Lestrade said, looking back out the window. "Beautiful day."

You: John nodded, concentrating on eating the rest of his meal. He finished it slowly, taking sips of tea. The sun crept out from behind the clouds and lit the park with a soft golden glow.

Stranger: Lestrade finished fairly neatly and watched out the window. He smirked at the evening sun and watched the tree tops dance in the wind.

You: A cheerful ringtone shattered the silence and John looked quizzically at Lestrade. "It's not me," John said. "I don't even carry a cellphone anymore."

Stranger: "It's me," Lestrade said, pulling out his phone and seeing it was Mycroft calling. He thought it rude if he were to answer the phone in front of John though. He silenced his phone and pocketed it again. "Why don't you carry a cellphone around anymore?"

You: "Who's going to call me?" John asked, shrugging. "I don't work at the clinic and you don't need to contact me about cases. And Harry emails once in a while."

Stranger: "What if I do need to contact you though? What do I do then?" Lestrade asked, raising an eyebrow at John.

You: "I still have my phone, I just don't carry it with me," John explained. "So if you need to reach me, call it. I'll get back to you eventually."

Stranger: "Okay... But what if there's a case where I end up needing a strong, ex-army doctor there right away? Then what?" Lestrade smirked.

You: John couldn't help but laugh, amused at the thought. "Then I may have to start carrying it," he said. "Though I doubt you'll need me. Who was calling, by the way? Was it important?"

Stranger: "It was just Mycroft," Lestrade said with a smile. "Nothing too important. I can call him later."

You: "You don't have to ignore him just because I'm here," John argued. "Besides, its usually considered bad form to ignore your boyfriend."

Stranger: "What would you know? You've only had girlfriends," Lestrade laughed lightly. "Besides, I'm not ignoring him. I'm busy, he can wait."

You: "I would assume the same rules apply," John said, a laughing lilt in his voice. "But it's your relationship." He glanced outside again, looking sharply at a man walking through the park. "Greg, does he look... familiar to you?" John asked, pointing out the man.

Stranger: "No," Lestrade said, recognizing who it was at once. "I've never seen him before in my life."

You: "That's odd," John said absently. "I thought that I'd seen him somewhere before. Maybe he's just got one of those faces. Though he walks similarly to how Sherlock used to when he was thinking."

Stranger: "How can you tell? We're kind of distant," Lestrade asked, texting Sherlock a quick note. Get out. John sees/recognizes you. -GL

You: "I used to watch him out of the corner of my eye when he paced the flat," John explained, still watching the stranger. "He would walk with his head slightly tilted to the side, shoulders squared. He had these long strides that just ate up the distance he walked."

Stranger: "Wow, you really did watch him," Lestrade smiled at the perfect description of Sherlock walking and thinking.

You: John nodded and smiled sadly. "He was... beautiful to watch. I know that word is almost never applied to men, but he really was," John said. "He moved gracefully as if he was walking to music in his head."

Stranger: "He probably was," Lestrade said, waiting for the man to check his phone and get out. "He was good looking, I will admit. Very smart; I guess some may call him beautiful."

You: John watched as the man reached into a pocket and pulled out a phone. He couldn't see the expression on his face, but John saw when the man whirled and rushed out of the park. "Guess he had somewhere to be," John said wryly.

Stranger: "Guess so," Lestrade silently sighed a sigh of relief.

You: John finished his tea and the last of his meal as the sun fled behind some clouds. "I think it's about time I was getting back," John said quietly. "I want to try starting that novel tonight."

Stranger: "Okay, I'll pay and we can go," Lestrade smiled, standing.

You: "You're always paying for me, Greg," John protested. "Why don't you let me buy this time. To partially pay you back for coming to the flat in time."

Stranger: "You don't have to, John," Lestrade started.

You: "I know that," John interrupted. "But I'm going to anyway." John took the check up to the register and paid for both himself and Lestrade. He left a tip on the table and waited while Lestrade caught up to him.

Stranger: "Thank you, John," Lestrade smiled, slipping his coat on.

You: "You're welcome, Greg," John smiled back. "I'd appreciate it if you could drop me back at my flat. Then you might want to go see what Mycroft wanted. Did you tell him you were coming to see me?"

Stranger: "No," Lestrade frowned slightly. "I snuck out so I didn't wake him. He was so peaceful looking, sleeping and all."

You: "He's probably worried," John said reasonably. He walked out with Lestrade and folded himself into the car again. "If you want to take a moment to text him back, that's fine."

Stranger: "No, it's fine, I'll talk to him when I get back," Lestrade said, starting the car and pulling out of the lot. He started back on the path to John's flat.

You: John shook his head slightly, worried that Lestrade might be making a mis-step here. But it wasn't his relationship and he'd offered Lestrade the option to call Mycroft. He got out of the car at his flat with a wave and a smile and hoped Lestrade wasn't about to go home to a huge argument.

Stranger: Lestrade waved and smiled back and started back to his own flat. He parked the car just as the sun was going down. He started up to his door, unlocking it and letting himself in.

You: Mycroft was sitting in the living room, a movie playing quietly on the TV. He was staring at his phone intently, hoping it would ring. When he heard footsteps, he looked up into Greg's face, anger and worry and relief crossing his face.

Stranger: "Hey, love," Lestrade smiled, hanging his coat, not yet seeing the look on Mycroft's face. As he turned to look at Mycroft, the smile quickly vanished. "What's wrong?"

You: "Busy day?" Mycroft asked, deceptively lightly. "I was wondering why you never answered my calls or texts. I was trying to convince myself that you were in no danger from the remaining sniper."

Stranger: "No, I was with John," Lestrade said, sitting next to Mycroft. "He texted me this morning to come down and take a look at something. After, we went out to the shooting range and dinner to celebrate."

You: "While I am thrilled you're safe, love, you could have told me," Mycroft said dryly. "We still have no idea where Moran is, so I'd like all of us to let at least one other person know where we are."

Stranger: "So you're mad because I left -my- flat to go hang out with one of -my- friends at a shooting range, where, if we were attacked by a sniper, I could easily shoot him with one of the many guns lying around?" Lestrade asked, raising an eyebrow.

You: Mycroft sighed, knowing how he sounded but unable to help it. "I'm upset that you left before I woke up and wouldn't answer your phone," Mycroft explained. "There is a certain amount of danger surrounding all of us. And I don't doubt that you could have taken care of yourself if Moran got close to you. But what if he didn't? As you told me before, a sniper doesn't need to be nearby to kill you."

Stranger: "I didn't want to wake you because you looked so at peace and relaxed. I couldn't answer my phone because, first, shooting ranges aren't good places to talk and, two, while out to dinner, it would have been rude," Lestrade explained, his voice slightly harder than really needed. "I thought you would understand and trust me."

You: "I trust you," Mycroft said quietly. "I don't trust Moran. No one keeps out of sight for as long as he has without serious resources and contacts. I don't want to lose you again."

Stranger: "I've dealt with people like Moran before, Mycroft. It's my job," Lestrade said, lowering his voice as well.

You: "I know that, love," Mycroft said, raising his hands in a consoling gesture. "But think about it this way: if I hadn't texted you when I said I would while I was undercover with Sherlock, would you have worried?"

Stranger: Lestrade thought for a moment before nodding slowly, looking down. "I'm sorry..."

You: "It's all right, Greg," Mycroft replied, catching hold of one of Greg's hands and rubbing his thumb over the back. "I was worried about you, that's all. I love you. You said John wanted you to come over? How come?"

Stranger: "He found a note yesterday while I was over under that skull of Sherlock's. He read it after I left and today he wanted me to come over to... tell him it was real," Lestrade said, squeezing Mycroft's hand subconsciously. "It was from Sherlock... It was a... A love note."

You: His mouth dropped open in surprise and Mycroft could only stare at Greg for a moment. "A... love note?" Mycroft finally asked. "Sherlock wrote him a love note? Really?"

Stranger: Lestrade nodded. "I know, I was just as surprised. It was long and sweet and just..." Lestrade shook his head, thinking of the note. "...Beautiful..."

You: "I'm glad that he was finally able to tell John," Mycroft mused. "How did he react?"

Stranger: "You should have seen him," Lestrade beamed. "He was happy, smiling like an idiot and placing it on the mantle like it was treasure. It was kind of cute."

You: Mycroft smiled back, tension he didn't know he carried finally relaxing. He hoped this meant they wouldn't have to worry about John doing anything drastic in the future. Leaning forward and pulling gently on Greg's hand, Mycroft pressed a light kiss to Greg's lips.

Stranger: "What was that for?" Lestrade smiled, looking deeply into Mycroft's eyes, leaning a hand on Mycroft's knee.

You: "Because I wanted to," Mycroft said, his thumb rubbing over Greg's hand again. "You looked so happy. And I missed you today."

Stranger: Lestrade smiled wider and moved closer to Mycroft, making it so their thighs were touching. He leaned over and kissed Mycroft again. "I missed you too."

You: Mycroft closed his eyes and leaned into the kiss, licking over Greg's bottom lip. He slid his hand up Greg's arm and gripped his shoulder. "What do you want to do tonight?" he whispered against Greg's lips.

Stranger: "Want to watch a movie than go to bed early and... mess around?" Lestrade asked, smiling as Mycroft pulled back and leaned his forehead on Lestrade's.

You: "Sure," Mycroft replied quietly. He rested against Greg and reminded himself that he was still alive, that his fears from earlier were unfounded.

Stranger: "You can choose the movie, babe," Lestrade whispered, kissing Mycroft's nose gently.

You: Mycroft smiled again and pressed a kiss to Greg's lips before standing and studying the movie collection. He chose a light comedy and put it in the DVD player before dropping back on the couch and pulling Greg into his arms.

Stranger: Lestrade cuddled into Mycroft's hold, smirking to himself at the love just the hold held. He touched Mycroft's arm, and held him against him. He loved watching the movie with him, Mycroft's laugh was always so warm.

You: Mycroft watched Greg more than he watched the movie. He had seen this one before so knew what was going to happen. He was more interested in Greg, how he reacted to the movie, his smile, how his eyes lit up with mirth.

Stranger: In the middle of the movie, during one of the romantic scenes, Lestrade bent back and kissed Mycroft on the cheek, smiling at the slight surprise on Mycroft's face for a moment.

You: Moving one hand up, Mycroft cupped Greg's cheek and looked deeply into his eyes. The movie was forgotten as he stared, a small smile creasing his lips. "I love you, Greg," Mycroft whispered before kissing him on the nose.

Stranger: "I love you too, Mycroft," Lestrade smiled, closing his eyes as Mycroft peck his nose gently. He pressed forward and caught Mycroft's lips with his.

You: Mycroft leaned into the kiss and wrapped an arm around Greg's waist. He pulled him closer until Greg settled into his lap. Moving the hand on his shoulder to the nape of Greg's neck, Mycroft held him gently. He kissed him thoroughly and then dipped his tongue in deeper, exploring Greg's mouth.

Stranger: Lestrade, leaning over to kiss Mycroft as he sat on his lap, moved both hands up to Mycroft's neck. He moaned as Mycroft's tongue found its way into his mouth and chuckled deeply as pleasure filled him. He gently moved his hips against Mycroft's legs, himself becoming noticeably harder with each second that passed.

You: Mycroft's other hand slipped to Greg's back and rubbed at the muscles underneath his shirt. He grinned when Greg chuckled against his lips and sucked his tongue into his mouth. "I think the movie's over," Mycroft murmured, breaking their kiss.

Stranger: Lestrade nodded, knowing his voice would fail him if he tried to use it. He lay down on the couch, pulling Mycroft on top of him and staring into his deep brown eyes. He carefully pulled on Mycroft's tie, trying to get him to come closer.

You: Chuckling, Mycroft allowed Greg to pull him closer and ranged himself over the other man. He ran a hand down Greg's chest and rubbed a thumb over the hem of his shirt.

Stranger: "Would you...?" Lestrade asked, eyeing Mycroft longingly. He couldn't finish the sentence before it got lost in the moment.

You: "What do you want, love?" Mycroft asked, leaning down so his breath ghosted over Greg's neck. He licked at his pulse point then trailed kisses down to his collarbone.

Stranger: "You know what I want..." Lestrade gasped, his eyes closing and him tilting his head back to give Mycroft the room.

You: "I do but I still want to hear it," Mycroft purred, sucking a bruise onto the point of Greg's collarbone. He moved back up and kissed Greg deeply again, tongue thrusting into his mouth.

Stranger: "Can't..." Lestrade whispered, his voice giving out as Mycroft kissed him. The weight and heat of Mycroft's body on him brought him to a tipping point. He groaned as Mycroft's mouth worked on his neck.

You: "Then I may just have to stop," Mycroft teased, sitting up and looking down at Greg. A rush of warmth and desire flooded him as he saw the glazed eyes and kiss-flushed mouth.

Stranger: "N-no..." Lestrade worked out just barely. His heart sank as Mycroft sat up. He needed Mycroft to do something to him, anything. Damn his voice for not working.

You: "You look gorgeous like this, Greg," Mycroft said, running a fingertip down the middle of Greg's chest. "You're flushed and needy and amazing. Will you let me do anything I want?" He leaned down slightly, the finger moving down to play with the button on Greg's pants.

Stranger: Lestrade nodded eagerly. His eyes were glazed, he could tell. He needed Mycroft and anything he was willing to give to him.

You: Rewarding him with a deep kiss, Mycroft undid the button and zipper on Greg's pants. He hooked his fingers in the hem of his boxers and pants and slid them down slowly. He then moved up to Greg's shirt and raised it up and over his head. When Greg was completely naked underneath him, Mycroft paused for a moment and just stared at him.

Stranger: "L-love you..." Lestrade smiled as he reached up with shaky hands to start undoing Mycroft's shirt buttons. He pulled the tie over Mycroft's head before continuing down the shirt.

You: "I know, dearest," Mycroft murmured. He shrugged his shoulders to ease out of the shirt and let it drop to the floor.

Stranger: Lestrade ran his hands over Mycroft's chest, him staring deeply into Mycroft's dreamy eyes. He stuttered as Mycroft's lips curved into a smile. What this man did to him!

You: "You going to stop there?" Mycroft asked, smiling into Greg's eyes.

Stranger: "No..." It came as a whisper. Lestrade ran his hands down and made slow work of the button, his hands not wanting to follow orders. Lestrade bothered his bottom lip as he worked on the button, his heart racing.

You: Mycroft laughed as Greg's fingers scrabbled over the button. He laid his hands over Greg's and helped him, gasping as the pants were drawn down over his hips.

Stranger: Lestrade let the pants be pulled as far as he could reach before going back up to draw down his boxers. He started tasting the copper of blood as he bothered his lip, exposing Mycroft in full.

You: Seeing the blood bloom on Greg's lips, Mycroft leaned forward and placed a thumb over Greg's bottom lip. "Don't do that, love," Mycroft told him. "Don't bite so hard."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded and released his lip. He let his eyes scan Mycroft, pausing as they landed on Mycroft's length.

You: "What do you want to do?" Mycroft asked, watching Greg's eyes skate down his body.

Stranger: Lestrade turned them over on the narrow surface, having Mycroft lay below him. He went down and quickly stuck Mycroft's length into his mouth, sucking gently.

You: "Your mouth is perfect," Mycroft hissed, throwing his head back against the couch. He threaded one hand into Greg's hair and tugged gently, moving his head into a slightly different position.

Stranger: Lestrade issued something between a moan and a whimper from the tug on his hair. He started to run his tongue slowly along the underside of Mycroft's length.

You: Mycroft groaned at the feel, his hips pumping up off the couch. He tried to stop that, wanting to go slow with this. The hand in Greg's hair caressed his head lovingly and Mycroft gasped when Greg's eyes met his.

Stranger: Lestrade found Mycroft's eyes and held his gaze as he ran his tongue around the length and to the head. He ran the tip of his tongue over the tip of Mycroft's length, being rewarded with a needy thrust upwards into his mouth.

You: "Oh, god," Mycroft murmured as he watched. Greg really had a magic tongue and knew exactly what to do with it. Sensations overwhelmed him and he had to break their gaze by dropping his head back down to the couch and squeezing his eyes closed.

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled deeply in his throat. He grazed his teeth over the length and ran his tongue in a circle around the base.

You: Mycroft bit his lip as Greg licked and sucked at him, breath heaving. His hand gripped at Greg's hair a little rougher, pulling him closer to him.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned deeper, running his tongue over and over the head. He want Mycroft on the edge.

You: Greg's moans vibrated through him causing Mycroft to let out little needy moans. His hips pumped shallowly as Greg continued to drive him crazy and Mycroft could feel warmth flooding him. "G...Greg," Mycroft stammered. "So good, don't stop."

Stranger: Lestrade smirked at the sound of his name and bit down gently by the base. He gave Mycroft a long, hard suck and chuckled deeply, repeating the process.

You: Mycroft screamed at the bite, hips jerking hard. One hand flailed a bit until he grabbed onto the back of the couch and held onto it. He couldn't stop moving now and could barely think.

Stranger: Lestrade released him and kissed the head. He gently flickered his tongue out to run over the hole, pressing into to playfully.

You: A strangled yell escaped Mycroft's lips as he felt the familiar build-up and tensing. He's beyond speaking now, can only grip harder at Greg's hair and moan.

Stranger: Lestrade whimpered at the hair pulling and resolved to biting down, hard, on the inside of Mycroft's thigh. He sucked the soft skin and bit down hard enough to leave a mark for weeks.

You: Mycroft squirmed and groaned, turned on even more as Greg marked him. The slight pain helps him come down a little bit, let this last a little longer. And he wants it to last as long as possible.

Stranger: Lestrade licked over the damaged skin and felt his forehead rub against Mycroft's hard length. He wrapped a hand around it and pumped gently, still licking the damaged skin, slowly making his way to Mycroft's entrance.

You: Mycroft stilled as much as he could when he felt where Greg was going. He didn't want to hurt Greg by moving too sharply. He yelped when he felt the first warm touch of his tongue.

Stranger: Lestrade circled his tongue around Mycroft's entrance before swiftly sliding it in. He ran it along the side and sucked a little on the hole.

You: "Greg, please," Mycroft panted, finally finding his voice. The teasing was driving him crazy and he needed so much more. He pressed forward with his hips, trying to draw Greg in closer to him.

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled darkly and sucked the entrance a little harder. He pressed his tongue in as far as he could and moved it around. He needed to hear Mycroft beg more.

You: "Yes, more, god," Mycroft panted. He looked up to see Greg laying on his belly between his legs and it was one of the most arousing things he'd ever seen. "Please, Greg," he repeated.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled his tongue out and circle the entrance some more, running from the hole up to the base of Mycroft's length. He sucked at the bottom of the length and ran his tongue up it to the tip again, moving his hand to let his tongue through.

You: "Stop teasing," Mycroft growled, tugging at Greg's hair again. He wanted to run his hands over Greg's skin but could only reach his head at the moment. He curled his fingers in Greg's hair, twisting the soft locks around his fingers.

Stranger: "You don't like it?" Lestrade asked, flickering his tongue out and running it over the hole of Mycroft's head again.

You: "I do, but it's driving me crazy," Mycroft groaned. "Please, I need you."

Stranger: "And what do you want me to do?" Lestrade asked, snickering at how helpless Mycroft looked, and how cute it looked on him.

You: "I... don't even know... anymore," Mycroft replied, swiping a tongue over dry lips. "I just want you. Whatever you want to do."

Stranger: Lestrade crawled back up to Mycroft, laying over him and placing arms on either side of Mycroft's head, allowing him to hover over him. "I can wait till you decide," he whispered, nipping Mycroft's ear.

You: Mycroft turned his head to suck at the skin under Greg's jaw. He trailed kisses up his jaw and waited until Greg turned his head back to kiss him. "I want you to shag me senseless," he murmured, breaking the kiss.

Stranger: Lestrade took a deep, shuddering breath at the voice Mycroft used. His eyes coated over again with lust as he lined himself up. "Senseless huh?"

You: "Yes," Mycroft hissed. He wrapped his legs around Greg's waist, pulling him in close.

Stranger: "I think I can handle that," Lestrade smiled as he gently pushed into Mycroft and smiled at the moan that Mycroft released into the quiet, still air. Lestrade panted at the look on Mycroft's face.

You: "God, I love you," Mycroft gasped. "I don't say it enough. I love you." He rocked his hips up against Greg's, eyes closing at the intense feelings.

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled and kissed Mycroft's cheek. "I don't say it enough. I love you, baby."

You: Mycroft caught his lips again and kissed him deeply. Their tongues fought for a moment before Mycroft let Greg slide his tongue into his mouth with a smile. He moved faster as his mind fogged over.

Stranger: Lestrade pumped harder and smiled against Mycroft's lips. "I'm glad it's you..." Lestrade whispered against Mycroft's lips.

You: "What's me?" Mycroft asked, opening his eyes to look at Greg in confusion. He groaned at a deep thrust and almost missed Greg's answer.

Stranger: "I'm glad it's you I fell in love with," Lestrade whispered, getting close to Mycroft's ear, nipping at the lobe.

You: "I am too," Mycroft replied happily. At the small bite, Mycroft gasped and felt his orgasm burst out of him. He screamed Greg's name as he did so and buried his face in the other man's neck.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned and felt his orgasm threaten in his stomach. He hissed then looked Mycroft in the eyes. "I'm not done with you yet," Lestrade said, taking Mycroft's now limp length in his hand, starting to pump it quickly. He felt it start to harden again and smiled evilly.

You: "God, Greg, slow down a bit," Mycroft yelped as the feeling started to overwhelm him. He was perfectly all right with Greg continuing but his skin felt extremely sensitive. He could feel tingling all over, especially where Greg rested against him.

Stranger: "Can't," Lestrade growled, nipping at Mycroft's neck. "Told me to... Shag you senseless... That's what I'mma do..."

You: Wrapping his arms tighter around Greg, Mycroft could only hold on and ride it out. He loved the touches, the bites, feeling Greg moving deep inside him. He tilted his head to suck at Greg's neck and unabashedly left a red mark underneath his jaw.

Stranger: Lestrade quickened the pace, thrusting harder and pumping his hand faster. His free hand dug its nails into Mycroft's hip, sure to leave finger-shaped bruises in the morning. Lestrade pumped deeper, hitting Mycroft's bundle of nerves with each thrust and savoring each needy moan Mycroft released into the quiet air of the flat.

You: Taking a deep breath, Mycroft focused enough to drag his nails across Greg's side and down to his hips. He gripped tightly for a few thrusts, guiding Greg into his hips harder. He grinned up at Greg and then slid his hand up Greg's chest to take one nipple between two fingers. He squeezed gently then harder, wanting to hear Greg moan above him.

Stranger: Lestrade yelped at the pressure Mycroft was adding on his nipple, burying his face into Mycroft's neck. He thrusted harder and deeper than before. He was panting, his skin crawling in anticipation. He screamed as his orgasm was pulled from him, harder and more than normal. He rode it out in deep, needy waves. When he was done, he continued to pump deep into Mycroft, not missing a second to keep going.

You: Mycroft dragged his hand across Greg's chest and gave his other nipple the same attention. When Greg moved to fast for him to keep doing that, he shifted his head to lick at Greg's collarbone and neck again, laving his tongue over the muscles.

Stranger: Lestrade growled deep from his chest, his length throbbing painfully inside of Mycroft. He pumped faster, feeling his skin getting rawer. His hips were going red from slamming into Mycroft's. His whole body was painfully sore, but he couldn't stop; he needed to keep going.

You: "Greg, you're going to hurt yourself," Mycroft murmured. He could feel an odd stuttering movement in Greg's hips and cupped them again to try to slow him down. "We've got time," he continued.

Stranger: "Don't care," Lestrade whispered, thrusting harder, shutting his eyes tightly and hiding his face in Mycroft's neck. "Need this..."

You: Not wanting Greg to hurt himself, Mycroft gathered Greg into his arms and flipped them on the couch until he could straddle Greg. He lifted off him slowly and moved up to pin his hips with his own. Leaning down to kiss Greg lightly, he whispered, "Just relax. I want to lay here with you. You can shag me again in a little bit."

Stranger: Lestrade bit the inside of his cheek and looked up at Mycroft. "I want it now..."

You: "And I don't want you raw and aching," Mycroft retorted, softening his tone with a smile. He moved to Greg's side, placing his back against the back of the couch. Gathering Greg into his arms, Mycroft pressed kisses to his cheeks and eyes.

Stranger: "Mycroft..." Lestrade whined, sinking into his arms. He pressed tighter into Mycroft's embrace and wrapped his legs into his. He placed one hand on Mycroft's arm and closed his eyes.

You: "Shh, love," Mycroft said, noticing the bone-deep weariness Greg was now feeling. "I've got you. Just relax." He tucked Greg's head under his chin and breathed a silent sigh. He was completely sated and relaxed and had his lover in his arms. Right now, everything was perfect.

Stranger: Lestrade yawned and chewed his bottom lip. "Did I hurt you?" He asked quietly, his eyes feeling heavier in his lover's embrace.

You: "No, you didn't," Mycroft reassured him. "But I didn't want you hurting yourself. We aren't teenagers anymore, you know." He laughed lightly and kissed Greg's nose before closing his own eyes.

Stranger: "I know," Lestrade yawned. "But sometimes I want to shag you like one."

You: "And I rather enjoyed that just now," Mycroft chuckled. He rested one hand on Greg's chest over his heart and sat silently until their breaths synchronized and they were breathing as one. "Sleep now," he murmured. "We can have each other again when we wake up."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded and relaxed more into Mycroft's grip, one hand sliding up to twist their fingers together in the hand that lay over his heart. His breathing slowed as he listened to Mycroft fall asleep. He felt Mycroft's heart beat slow against his back and smiled slightly as he slipped off as well. This couldn't be more perfect.

\-------------------end Chapter 11-------------------------------


	12. Chapter 12

You: Mycroft sat poring over papers, his desk looking like a filing cabinet had thrown up all over it. It had been a year since he and Sherlock had dealt with Srechko Hunt and he'd had no sign of Moran. He leaned back in his chair after dropping another useless document, a tired sigh escaping his lips. A light knock at his door announced Anthea's presence. "Come in," Mycroft called.

Stranger: Anthea entered quickly into the room and dropped a folder on his desk silently. She continued texting on her phone as Mycroft opened the folder and flipped through the papers.

You: "So he's in Dublin?" Mycroft said to himself. "Well, at least he's finally gone to ground. Perhaps my dear little brother can deal with him." Mycroft pulled out his phone and sent a text to Sherlock. Meet me at Molly's at 6? Got information on Moran. - MH

Stranger: See you then. -SH

You: Mycroft allowed himself a small, feral grin then packed the folder away in a briefcase. He worked through the mountain of paper on his desk quickly, his main worry disappeared for the moment. He worked until about a half an hour before he had to meet Sherlock then walked outside to his car. He gave the driver Molly's address then sat back to enjoy the ride.

Stranger: Sherlock paced Molly's flat as he waited for Mycroft. The tea Molly had made him some time ago had ran cold and forgotten on the table. Sherlock bothered his lip in anticipation.

You: Mycroft got out of the car at Molly's flat and took a deep breath before walking up the steps. This could all end in a few days and adrenaline was starting to course through him. He did indeed understand Sherlock's love of legwork now. He knocked on the door and waited for it to open.

Stranger: Sherlock opened the door and stepped back to let his brother inside. As Mycroft sat in a chair, Sherlock paced behind the couch. "What did you find?" He asked, only glancing up at Mycroft as he paced.

You: Mycroft waited to speak, pulling the folder Anthea had given him out of his briefcase. He held it out to the pacing Sherlock and said, "Anthea found him. It's all in here."

Stranger: Sherlock snached the folder and leafed through the folder. "Dublin, huh?" Sherlock said softly, reading a few sentences, sitting down on the couch.

You: "Yes, he's actually staying in one place longer than a few days," Mycroft said, staring intently at Sherlock. "And I changed my mind. I'm coming with you. You're going to need help with this man."

Stranger: "No way," Sherlock said, snapping his attention to Mycroft's face. "It's too dangerous."

You: "That's why you need help," Mycroft continued. "Moran is almost as good as John as a marksman. I looked up his service record. He has an impressive number of kills."

Stranger: "Mycroft, if something was to happen to you while we were after him, I will never be able to live with myself," Sherlock shook his head. "Not that I would have to for long, seeing Lestrade would kill me. You can't come."

You: "And you don't really have a choice," Mycroft said smoothly, sitting back and crossing one leg elegantly over the other. "I am perfectly capable of taking care of myself, as I've repeated and proved before."

Stranger: "Mycroft-" Sherlock started, than cut himself off. He sighed deeply and ran a hand over his face. "I know you're capable... But what if you get hurt?"

You: "Then it's my problem," Mycroft said. "Besides, much as I know you are capable, I would feel much better to go along with you. And as much as I hate to admit it, I miss doing some of the legwork." His voice dropped on the last sentence, as if imparting an embarrassing secret. Which, in effect, he was.

Stranger: Sherlock smiled at his brother. "Fine, but if Lestrade comes after me if you get hurt, you better call him off."

You: Mycroft laughed at that, surprised at the quick acceptance. "I can do that," he said. "Besides, I can always distract him by asking him to stay with me."

Stranger: Sherlock shook his head, smiling slightly at the last sentence. "How are you guys, anyway?"

You: "Good," Mycroft replied, satisfaction threading his voice. "He trusts me again and he's sold his flat to move in with me. It's perfect." He smiled, thinking of Greg coming home to their flat.

Stranger: "You guys will be living together now?" Sherlock asked, laughing slightly. "And this is the man that told me caring was a disadvantage. What happened?"

You: "Greg did," Mycroft replied simply. "He's the only one other than you and John who's ever really stood up to me. He didn't fold under the weight of my power and connections. And I realized, with him, that caring actually strengthens us."

Stranger: "Never thought I'd hear you say that," Sherlock smiled a little wider. He leaned back into the couch and sighed deeply. "At least you guys are happy."

You: Mycroft smiled back at him, joy reflected in his eyes. He was happy that Greg had listened, never more so than when Greg had decided to move in with him. "So when do you want to leave for Dublin?" Mycroft asked, bringing the conversation back around to the reason he was here. "And where is Molly? I would have expected her to be here."

Stranger: "She had to work late," Sherlock explained, shrugging. "A few bodies came in that needed her attention ASAP. Would you be okay with leaving in a day or two?"

You: "That would be fine," Mycroft nodded. "It will give me time to settle everything so I can take a leave of absence."

Stranger: "Sounds good," Sherlock nodded and looked to the window. "This one worries me a little, Mycroft. He's going to be harder than the rest of them, and the last one almost killed you... If he had shot just a few inches farther over..."

You: "He's getting tired. A year and a half of constant moving, of being wary and cautious of everyone and everything, is wearing him out," Mycroft said confidently. "He won't be as sharp as normal even though he is still dangerous. We should be able to handle him."

Stranger: "Still-" Sherlock sighed and ran a hand over his face. "This one still will be very hard to find and kill... What if we can't get him somewhere alone?"

You: "What makes you think he won't already be alone?" Mycroft asked. "From his psych profile from the army, Moran is a loner. He doesn't trust anyone. He most likely won't have anyone around him, not since losing his boss."

Stranger: "True, but he may be in the middle of Dublin, meaning lots of people," Sherlock said, licking his lips. "We can't kill him there."

You: "You're right," Mycroft mused. "But we probably shouldn't make too detailed of plans right now. We have to see where he's living, how he moves, who if anyone he meets with. I don't want to be set in plans we made here if another idea would serve us better once we get there."

Stranger:k "Agreed," Sherlock said, standing and starting to the kitchen. "Tea?"

You: "Sounds good," Mycroft nodded. "I didn't have a chance to eat or drink anything. There was a mountain of paperwork on my desk."

Stranger: "A mountain? Sounds annoying," Sherlock said as he went around in the kitchen making tea.

You: "It was, but I like to think the world will spin on its axis another day due to my diligent paperwork," Mycroft chuckled dryly.

Stranger: "And in a way, a small part of it will," Sherlock called back. "What do you like in your tea?"

You: "You're being very nice today, Sherlock," Mycroft said, a tad suspiciously. "And just sugar, please. Why are you being nice today?"

Stranger: Sherlock shrugged as he walked back in and handed Mycroft his tea. "Rare good mood?"

You: Mycroft studied Sherlock after taking a sip of his tea. It was perfect, which also made him suspicious. A small smile danced on Sherlock's lips and his eyes were brighter than usual. He also was wearing a pair of torn jeans and a sports shirt. "You saw John today, didn't you?" Mycroft asked suddenly

Stranger: "Maybe..." Sherlock said slowly, sitting down and drinking from his own tea. He was unable to keep the smile off his face.

You: "No maybe about it, little brother," Mycroft chided gently. "No one else could put that look on your face."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded in agreement at that statement and sipped his tea. "Okay, so I saw John today. Stood a few feet away, actually. He kept getting closer and I just... Wanted to touch him so bad, let him know I was okay... But he was so adorable," Sherlock smiled into his cup. "I know, I sound stupid, right?"

You: "You sound like you're in love," Mycroft corrected. "I would have to argue stupid. Sweet and lovestruck yes. Why did you go see him?"

Stranger: "I didn't go to see him," Sherlock corrected him, shaking his head. "He kinda found me."

You: Mycroft merely arched an eyebrow and sipped at his tea again. "How exactly did he do that?" he asked. "You're supposed to be dead to him."

Stranger: ----------

Stranger: Sherlock walked down the street, passing building after building and looking into each window. 'Where would you find such a ring like that?' He wondered. He had been looking for almost a year now. It was almost time to look to get him a second gift.

You: John was wandering down a busy street, getting some much-needed air. He'd gotten a fair way through the book he'd been writing and had to get out of the flat. He still lived in 221B, life getting a little easier now that a year and a half had passed.

Stranger: Sherlock paused in front of a tall brick building labeled "jewelry" in bright red letters. Sherlock looked in the window and saw a few cases of rings. In the window, a sign that read "custom designs and engravings" hung. Sherlock smiled to himself and entered the building.

You: John saw a small cafe next to a jewelry store and decided to stop for a cup of coffee. He hadn't had any coffee he hadn't made himself for a long time and wanted to treat himself. He ordered and took his cup to sit on one of the chairs set up outside to take advantage of the sunny day. He missed Sherlock walking into the jewelry store because his attention was captured by a small child chasing a flock of pigeons in the square

Stranger: Sherlock looked around at the many cases of shining jewelry. His eyes landed on a sign that read "male wedding bands" and he went over to that case. He figured it would be the only type of ring that he could get designed and engraved how he wanted just for John.

You: John sipped his coffee slowly and watched the life flowing around him. He amused himself by making deductions about the people he could see, but he couldn't tell if he was right or not. Though some things were glaringly obvious, like the professor who liked to use chalkboards and the gaggle of uni students.

Stranger: Sherlock stood at the counter and waited for someone to come over and help him. The man behind the glass casing gave him a strange look as he told him what he wanted. The man had Sherlock fill out some paperwork and told him it would take a few hours to finish. Sherlock slowly made his way outside and over to the coffee house next door, not noticing John who sat on the other side, away from the jewelry store.

You: When John grew tired of watching the people pass by on the street, he took to idly doodling in the notebook he'd started carrying around with him. Before he carried it, he'd actually lost some really good ideas for his story because he had nowhere to put them. Dialogue, descriptions, and characters flowed from his mind to the pen and on the paper as his coffee sat cooling by his elbow.

Stranger: Sherlock ordered his coffee and went to sit outside at a table just between the jewelry store and the coffee shop. He sipped his coffee absently and watched the sky overhead.

You: As John wrote a particularly sarcastic line for his main character, he couldn't help the warm laugh that bubbled out of his throat. He could hear Sherlock speaking it as if the detective were right in front of him. It was perfect for the character he'd modeled on the arrogant man.

Stranger: Sherlock froze, cup halfway to his mouth. 'No... It can't be...' Sherlock thought. He slowly turned his head to look across the coffee shop. Sitting there, writing in a small book, smirk on his face, sat John. -His- John...

You: John continued to write for his main character, one he'd decided to call Gabriel Tollen. Every once in a while, he'd tap the pen against his lips and then write furiously before repeating the process. Apparently, the air and coffee were doing him good; inspiration had struck and he couldn't stop writing.

Stranger: Sherlock watched, fascinated, as John raised the pen to his lips. His perfect lips. At one point, he had bit down on the pen and chewed it, obviously deep in thought. Sherlock chewed his own lip as John had chewed that pen.

You: The surge of words slowly calmed, John writing less and less often. When he was thinking, John would put the tip of the pen in his mouth and chew at it, staring off into space. "This character almost writes himself," John muttered to himself. "Of course he would. I based him on Sherlock bloody Holmes."

Stranger: Sherlock's heart surged in his chest. He listened as John talked to himself, just barely being able to make out the words. 'A character..? Based after me..?' he thought.

You: John finished the scene he was outlining, the dialogue bracketed by space before and after each line and closed the notebook. He sighed happily; that scene had been driving him crazy. Taking another drink of his coffee, he went back to people watching, though this time he watched the other patrons. One of the men sitting at another table caught his eye. 'Something familiar about him,' John thought to himself, watching out of the corner of his eye.

Stranger: Sherlock shifted so he wasn't looking at John dead-on, seeing he had finished whatever he was doing in his notebook. He sipped his coffee and watched John out of the corner of his eye.

You: John couldn't figure out where he'd seen the man before and finally decided to just go ask him. Just because he had avoided most of humanity for the past several months didn't mean he didn't know how to talk to people. Grabbing his coffee and notebook, John made his way to the table and put on his best 'I'm-not-a-stalker-promise' smile and said, "Hey, this may sound weird, but you look really familiar. Have we met before?"

Stranger: Sherlock, his face threatening to turn red, shook his head and cleared his throat, dropping it a few octaves before replying. "I don't know. I meet so many people."

You: "I'm John," John said, putting his coffee on the table and holding out a hand. "John Watson. What's your name?"

Stranger: "Dean," Sherlock smiled and took John's hand and shook it. "Dean Michaels."

You: "Nice to meet you Dean," John said, smiling. "What do you do that you meet so many people?"

Stranger: "Oh, I work for the police," Sherlock lied quickly.

You: "That's really interesting," John said. "I used to help out a DI at New Scotland Yard. You mind if I sit down?"

Stranger: Sherlock gestured to an open seat and watched John sit down. He was happy he didn't recognize him, and they were actually talking. He felt his heart rate pick up and he swallowed drying.

You: John sat and took another sip of his coffee then turned to Dean. "Greg Lestrade," he continued. "A friend of mine and I used to consult on cases. I was a doctor at the time."

Stranger: "Who's this friend of yours? And was? You're not a doctor anymore?" Sherlock asked, fighting a smile off his face.

You: "I don't know if you followed the news at all, but my friend was Sherlock Holmes," John said, not even stuttering over the name. Time had made it easier. "And I say was because I don't really practice as a doctor anymore. Now I'm working on being an author. What about you? What do you do for the police?"

Stranger: "I work mostly on suicide cases," Sherlock shrugged. "Sherlock Holmes, huh? I heard that name before... What happened to him?"

You: A look of undefinable sadness crossed John's face. Some things were easier, yes, but some things never changed. Like his memory of that day and his reaction to it. "He... fell," John said, voice breaking only a little. "He stepped off the roof of St. Bart's."

Stranger: "Oh, I'm sorry..." Sherlock said, wanting so badly to reach over and touch John's hand, which was laying on the table. "I didn't mean to upset you with the question... I'm sorry...."

You: "It's... it's all right," John said, forcing the smile back on his face. "Thanks for your concern. How long have you worked with Scotland Yard?"

Stranger: "Three years now," Sherlock lied. God, those lips... That smile, fake or not... That man was so wonderful...

You: "That's a long time," John said, tilting his head to the side. He looked at his watch and realized he'd been gone longer than he'd intended. "It was nice to meet you," he said as he stood.

Stranger: Sherlock glanced as his own watch and noticed the ring should be done any minute now. He stood as well and looked John over, unable to help sweeping his eyes over his body. The body he wanted so bad. Needed, even. "Yeah, nice to meet you too..."

You: "Maybe we'll meet again sometime," John said, politeness automatic. "Have a good day." He limped away, the cane clicking on the ground with every other step. He didn't look back, though he felt an itch in the back of his mind to.

Stranger: Sherlock watched John leave, noting his body structure, how he leaned on his cane and how his hair flew around in the back in the soft breeze. He wanted to call out to him as he watched his retreating form. Yell to him, and run up to reveal who he really was. Maybe get to touch him. Kiss him, even? But Sherlock knew the dangers. If anyone found out who he really was....

You: John hailed a cab and rode in silence back to 221B. He made his way upstairs and made some tea before sitting down with his computer to make some sense out of his notes. As he fell into the strangely soothing task of writing, the stranger he met today receded further and further back until John forgot about him completely.

Stranger: Sherlock went back into the jewelry store, John completely out of sight. He went up to the man that helped him before. "Is it ready?" He asked, handing the man the slip of paper to confirm what he was looking for was his. The man took the paper and scanned it, nodding to Sherlock and heading into the back.

You: "Here it is," the man said, brandishing a small black box. He opened it and took out the ring to show to Sherlock. "Is this what you had in mind?"

Stranger: Sherlock looked at the small golden ring with celtic knotwork running the surface. He turned it slightly to look on the inside. 'John, the love of my life. -SH' ran the inside surface, and Sherlock smiled. "It's perfect, thank you," Sherlock smiled and placed the ring into the little box, closing the lid. "How much?"

You: "That'll be 250 pounds," the shopkeeper said, holding out his hand to Sherlock. He grinned, happy to have made something so sweet. This really was the best part of owning his own jewelry store.

Stranger: Sherlock counted out and handed him the cash, flashing him a smile. He picked up the box and pocketed it, moving quickly outside and walking back to Molly's. He had to meet Mycroft there in a few hours, after all.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

You: Mycroft just stared at Sherlock as his brother finished relating his afternoon. He had actually talked to John? And told him he worked with the police? "You were very lucky," Mycroft said carefully. "I think it was only luck that kept him from recognizing you."

Stranger: "I know," Sherlock said at length. "But still... That was the happiest I've been in a long time. I know I should have never of let him talk to me... but I couldn't help it... Just picturing that ring on him makes my stomach flip."

You: "Can I see it?" Mycroft asked. "I'm curious what you would get for him."

Stranger: Sherlock reached into his pocket and handed Mycroft the little black box, a smile playing on his lips.

You: Mycroft opened the box and studied the slim gold band. He lifted it out and turned it to the light, tracing the swirls and loops of the design. Writing on the inside of the band caught his eye and he turned the ring in a circle, reading it. "Appropriate," he approved, handing the ring and box back to Sherlock with a slight smile. "Though birthdays come around every year. Are you going to get him another one?"

Stranger: "Not a ring, no. Who knows how many he would get if I were to give him a ring every year," Sherlock chuckled. "I want to get him something, but I don't know what..."

You: "You should tailor it to what he likes," Mycroft said. "Perhaps a new jumper? Does he have any hobbies that you are aware of?"

Stranger: "Well, like I told you, he's writing now," Sherlock shrugged sadly. "I've never been good at this, you know that."

You: "I find it interesting that he turned to writing," Mycroft said thoughtfully. "Maybe being a blogger was satisfying some urge or dream he'd forgotten and now he can pursue. Perhaps you could get him a nice pen and notebook?"

Stranger: "Maybe. A nice pen sounds like a good idea. Maybe engrave it with his name?" Sherlock thought out loud, bothering his bottom lip.

You: "That would probably work very well," Mycroft said. "Though perhaps instead of his name, some word or phrase that is significant to both of you?"

Stranger: "That does sound better," Sherlock nodded. "More personal..."

You: "Is there anything you can think of that would be appropriate?" Mycroft asked. "Maybe the first thing you said to him? Or some case that connects you?"

Stranger: Sherlock shook his head, thinking. "Well, the first case we worked on together was what John called 'The Study in Pink'... But I don't know if that would be a good thing to have engraved in a pen."

You: "What about when you first met?" Mycroft persisted. "I know you, Sherlock. You would have deduced him within a minute or two. Anything that would be pertinent from then?"

Stranger: Sherlock shrugged. "I don't know. Nothing I said seems to be important enough to have him understand the feelings I have. The only 'feeling driven' conversation we really had was where John asked if I had a girlfriend or boyfriend or what I had..."

You: "That must have been an interesting conversation," Mycroft remarked dryly. "Do you remember anything specific that would have meaning for both of you?"

Stranger: "Maybe... 'it's all fine'?" Sherlock asked, biting harder on his bottom lip.

You: "It's all fine?" Mycroft repeated. "Well, as long as it has meaning for both of you, it should work. Are you going to hold onto the presents and give them to him when you go back? Or are you going to try to give them to him without him knowing you're alive?"

Stranger: "I'm going to wait. I want to give them to him myself," Sherlock said, then a smile started across his face. "Especially the ring..."

You: Mycroft nodded and checked the time on his watch. It read 7 pm and he was amazed at how quickly the time had gone. "So, will you call me when you are ready to head to Dublin? I would like to take care of Moran quickly," Mycroft said, standing.

Stranger: "Sure. I suppose you'll be getting on buying those tickets?" Sherlock asked, standing as well and moving over to his brother.

You: Mycroft tapped a finger on his lips, thinking. "Yes, I can have Anthea buy tickets," he said thoughtfully. "What day should I have her buy them for? Three days from now?"

Stranger: "Two or three, whatever works for you," Sherlock said, shrugging.

You: "Three would be better," Mycroft said decisively. He walked to the door and opened it before pausing. "How are you?" he finally asked. "After seeing John today, not going back can't be easy for you."

Stranger: "It's hard, sure, but I'm okay. I'm happy I got to see him." Sherlock smiled. He went over to Mycroft and held out his hand. "Thank you, by the way."

You: Mycroft shook the hand solemnly, staring into Sherlock's eyes. "Of course, little brother," he said softly. "John isn't the only one suffering and I don't want to see you doing something drastic."

Stranger: "I won't. I want to go back to John, not actually die," Sherlock promised as Mycroft released his hand.

You: "Good," Mycroft said, nodding. He closed the door behind him, ignoring the slight pain he could see in Sherlock's eyes. There was nothing he could do about it now and there were other things that required his attention. He sent a text to Anthea asking her to have plane tickets for three days from now to Dublin then went home. The next few days were going to be busy.

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Stranger: Lestrade placed the last two boxes of his on Mycroft and his bed, releasing a huge sigh of relief. He sat down on the bed next to the boxes, back facing the door, and sighed again, rubbing at his shoulder. He's been moving too many heavy boxes for one day.

You: Mycroft stood in the doorway and watched Greg, smiling. He still couldn't believe that he had this man to come home to, that he was his. Walking forward quietly, he placed his hands on Greg's shoulders and massaged. "Hello, love," he whispered in Greg's ear, leaning in to place a kiss on the side of his neck.

Stranger: Lestrade hissed happily at the pressure on his shoulders. He smiled up at Mycroft and caught his lips. "Evenin'," he said tiredly, his eyes drooping slightly. "How was work?"

You: "Busy," Mycroft replied, still massaging Greg's shoulders. "Though Anthea found Moran. He's in Dublin. Sherlock and I are going in three days to take care of him."

Stranger: Lestrade tensed at Mycroft's words, his back going rigid. "Wait," he said slowly. "Did I hear you right? You and Sherlock, going to Dublin in three days?"

You: Mycroft sighed quietly, remembering that he'd told Greg he wasn't going to be doing the legwork anymore. "Yes, love," he said. "I didn't want Sherlock going alone. Moran is very dangerous and I think I could help him."

Stranger: "You promised me you weren't doing that anymore!" Lestrade started, standing quickly and throwing off Mycroft's hands. "You promised you were just going to find him information!"

You: "I know, I know," Mycroft said, taking a step back. "I just don't want Sherlock going alone and something happening that I could have helped prevent. I found the information on Moran and I combed through his military record. He is almost as good as John and far more ruthless. I know I promised you but he's my little brother. I have to protect him."

Stranger: "I can't believe this..." Lestrade said at length, shaking his head. "Send someone with him with practice in this sort of thing! Someone who knows what they're doing! You're not trained in guns or war. Something can too easily happen to you! You can be..." He swallowed deeply, tears over taking him. "You can be killed..." He finished quietly.

You: Mycroft stepped forward again and gently gathered Greg into his arms. He hugged him close and whispered, "I know you worry, Greg. But nothing will happen to me. And I can't send anyone else with Sherlock. No one knows he's still alive and he won't trust anyone else. Just trust me for this. I'm sorry I broke my promise, but I will come back."

Stranger: "Let me go..." Lestrade whispered back, his eyes full of tears. "I mean... I know who he is... I'm trained in this line of work... I'd rather be killed than have you be."

You: "No, I can't let you," Mycroft said. "I know you're trained as a cop but I won't let you cross a line. There are things I'd rather you not have on your conscience."

Stranger: "Mycroft, I've killed before," Lestrade said, nuzzling into Mycroft's neck as tears streaked his cheeks. "I can go... I just... Can't have you killed..."

You: Mycroft pressed gentle kisses to the top of Greg's head, his heart breaking at the pain in the other man's voice. "I know you have," he said soothingly. "But always to protect yourself, your partner, or an innocent. Never in cold blood. And that's what this will be. I never want that for you."

Stranger: "But what if something happens?" Lestrade protested, pulling back to look at Mycroft with watery eyes. "What if he gets you? What if... you can't come back to me..?"

You: "We could spend hours coming up with "what if" scenarios, love," Mycroft said, looking into Greg's eyes. "But I will come back. I did last time, didn't I? And Sherlock will be there to help watch over me."

Stranger: "Last time you weren't facing someone like Moran! Last time, you were safer and you still got shot!"

You: "But I still survived and it wasn't even all that dangerous of a wound," Mycroft argued. "Greg, please, everything will be all right. I know Moran is dangerous. I know him at least as well as he knows himself if not better. And I will take every precaution, every safety measure imaginable to make sure I come back to you."

Stranger: Lestrade shook his head, a new wave of tears coming over him. He buried his face back into Mycroft's neck as they took him over. "I can't stop you," He sobbed. "Please... don't go..."

You: "I'm sorry," Mycroft said again, running a hand over Greg's hair. He kept touching him, stroking his back and head gently, trying to convey love and concern. He just held Greg as the man cried his frustration and fear into his neck and didn't continue the argument.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled himself back together after a few minutes. He pulled back and brushed his eyes with the back of his hand. "Sorry..." He whispered, blushing lightly. "I just... I don't know..."

You: "You have nothing to be sorry for, dearest," Mycroft murmured. He brushed his lips against Greg's and smiled. "I'm the one who should be sorry. And I am. But this is something I feel needs to be done. Can you understand that?"

Stranger: Lestrade nodded and forced a smile. "I can, yes."

You: Mycroft kissed him again, deeper this time. His thumb rubbed over Greg's pulse point, soothing and calming. He could feel Greg relaxing against him and he hummed gently in encouragement.

Stranger: Lestrade gently pulled Mycroft over and onto the bed, making sure he landed on the bottom with Mycroft on top of him. He wanted to cuddle and kiss this man for as long as he could. Who knew how long they had..?

You: Chuckling, Mycroft arranged himself over Greg, his weight pinning the other man to the bed. "Missed me, huh?" he asked, his voice sly.

Stranger: "Always," Lestrade muttered against Mycroft's lips. He twisted his legs together with Mycroft's and pried his lips open, sliding his tongue in quickly, mapping out his mouth.

You: Mycroft kissed back hard, fighting with Greg over dominance of the kiss. The kiss went on for several moments, rough and needy. Which was the way both of them liked it before Mycroft stopped fighting and allowed Greg to plunder his mouth.

Stranger: Lestrade's hand went down and found the edge of Mycroft's shirt. He played with it for a while, kissing Mycroft deeply and needingly. He gently ran his hand just under the edge, feeling the soft skin and the slight bump of Mycroft's stomach. He loved every inch of this man and wanted him to know it, but in ways, words couldn't say what he wanted to tell him.

You: Grabbing Greg's hand and pinning it above his head, Mycroft said, "Nope. My turn, love." He took Greg's other hand and crossed his wrists, holding both with one hand. His other hand swept down and under Greg's shirt, stroking and caressing the bare skin.

Stranger: Lestrade's eyes opened in shock. He stared into Mycroft's for a few moments, but quickly relaxed. He nodded and closed his eyes as Mycroft caressed his stomach and sides.

You: As Greg relaxed, Mycroft lifted the shirt up so that it exposed his chest. He then moved his hand down to the button on Greg's pants and undid it before pushing them down. Mycroft could feel Greg hardening underneath him as he was stripped and laughed darkly. "I love you," he said, leaning down to kiss Greg.

Stranger: "I love you too, babe," Lestrade said against Mycroft's lips, smiling and humming between words.

You: Mycroft slid his hand across Greg's hip and stroked him gently. He swallowed the moan the other man let out by kissing him, thrusting his tongue deep into his mouth. Mycroft couldn't do gentle right now, needed to take and give and show Greg how much he loved him.

Stranger: "Mmmmm-Mi'oft," Lestrade moaned against his lover's lips. His body was aching to be touched everywhere by him and his erection was growing painfully hard, throbbing for attention only Mycroft could give it.

You: Mycroft hummed in response and stroked a little harder. He enjoyed the feeling of Greg writhing underneath him and wanted to prolong it. After a few more strokes, Mycroft released him and moved his legs further apart. "I think I'm going to shag you senseless," he whispered in Greg's ear. "I want you to be completely speechless and wrung out."

Stranger: "Dear God..." Lestrade half whispered half moaned at the words. His eyes were hazy and his whole body was screaming for attention. He nodded slowly, not able to tell Mycroft any other way he wanted it. That he needed it.

You: "Good," Mycroft approved of Greg's nod. "Keep your hands above your head." He released Greg's wrists and moved down a bit to settle deeper in between Greg's legs. He slid one hand down and into Greg, slowly pushing in and stretching him.

Stranger: Lestrade's body jumped, unable to help it. He growled a moan deeply and closed his eyes. He was so aroused it was painful, as though his erection couldn't hold it all. His nipples got extremely hard without any attention, and his whole body started shaking in anticipation.

You: Mycroft laved his tongue over Greg's stomach as he pumped his finger in and out. When he didn't feel resistance anymore, he added a second finger and grinned at the noises Greg was making. He moved faster, pushing in deeper and deeper.

Stranger: Lestrade bit his lip as he felt Mycroft lick over his stomach. His throat was making sounds that didn't even sound humanly possible, and on a normal basis, he would have been ashamed to have made them. But right now, he couldn't give a damn what his body did, he just wanted Mycroft all over him and in him.

You: As he pushed a third finger inside, Mycroft stopped being as gentle. He thrust in hard, his fingers reaching the bundle of nerves inside Greg with every push. Moving further down, he took Greg's erection into his mouth and sucked hard.

Stranger: "God! MYCROFT!" Lestrade shouted, throwing his head back at the duel sensation to his lower half. His hips bucked and he had to clench his teeth to keep from twisting his fingers into Mycroft's hair.

You: Humming around Greg, Mycroft took him in deeper and ran his tongue in swirls over the sensitive skin. He could listen to this for hours, knowing it was him driving Greg crazy. When he decided he couldn't wait any longer, had to be inside him, he released Greg's erection and pulled his fingers out carefully. Shifting again, Mycroft slipped inside his lover and pressed a kiss to his lips.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned deep from his throat. He slowly wrapped his arms around Mycroft's neck, unable to keep from touching him.

You: "I should stop for that," Mycroft murmured. "But I don't think I could right now. You are addictive, you know that?" He pumped his hips slowly at first, building up a rhythm between them.

Stranger: "Stop... For wha?" Lestrade growled, grinding his teeth, his eyes rolling in his head.

You: "For not listening and keeping your arms up," Mycroft said, nipping at Greg's neck. "But I'm not stopping now." He started thrusting faster and harder, getting as deep as he could. He sucked red marks into Greg's neck, leaving tangible proof that Greg was his. And always would be if he had anything to say about it.

Stranger: "Lov' 'ou..." Lestrade forced out between his panting. He was losing things quickly, losing control of his body.

You: "I love you too," Mycroft growled. He let his control snap, his hips driving hard into Greg's. He reached down and gripped Greg's erection, stroking in time with their hips. He wanted Greg to scream at the sensations. "Scream my name, love," Mycroft said, licking a stripe up the side of Greg's neck and jaw.

Stranger: "My... Mycroft!" Lestrade screamed, his arms tightening around Mycroft's neck. His hips surged forward at the word, banging painfully and arousingly into Mycroft's hips.

You: "Good, love," Mycroft approved. He squeezed with his hand, pumping Greg's erection from the base to the tip in one long, easy move. He was panting heavily now, the sound of his name on Greg's lips arousing him beyond measure.

Stranger: Lestrade screamed again, sweat breaking out on his forehead. He tossed his head to the side against the pillow, feelings surging through him.

You: "I want you to come for me, Greg," Mycroft whispered, desire and need threading his voice. "I want to feel you explode while you scream my name." He twisted his hand at the end of each stroke, driving Greg higher and higher. He could feel the small twitches and catches in his breath and knew they were both close to the edge.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned in response, his hips thrusting slightly at the touch. He knew his voice was failing him quickly.

You: Mycroft caught his lips again, wanting to taste Greg while they were connected like this. He pulled Greg close to him with his free hand, pressing against him in as many places as he could. He thrust deep and in long, smooth strokes and swallowed the moans and screams Greg made.

Stranger: Lestrade felt overwhelmed with all the sensations coursing through his body. He screamed Mycroft's name to the ceiling as his orgasm ripped through him. He was panting hard.

You: "Perfect," Mycroft breathed as he stroked Greg through his orgasm. He kissed Greg again, love pouring through it. He felt his own orgasm burst out of him and stilled as his muscles locked into place.

Stranger: "Sc-scream... name..." Lestrade said as he felt Mycroft's orgasm start to pour in and fill him

You: "Greg" Mycroft yelled, his eyes locked on his lover's. He panted hard, pleasure coursing through him. He could barely even think right now and Greg's name was all he could say. "Greg," he said again, quieter.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned helplessly as Mycroft muttered his name, eyes locked. His body was shaking hopelessly.

You: Mycroft rode out the last of his explosion and carefully sat up and back. He ran a caring hand over Greg's chest before getting his legs underneath him and finding a towel to clean up.

Stranger: Lestrade lay there, unable to get any part of his body to listen to his mind. He was panting and sweaty all over, and his stomach was sticky from his orgasm.

You: Mycroft cleaned himself up quickly in the bathroom then took a warm, damp towel out to Greg. He tenderly wiped his stomach and chest clean then pressed kisses to the damp skin. "You are wonderful, love," he whispered. After tossing the towel in the general direction of the bathroom, Mycroft crawled into bed and pulled Greg into his arms.

Stranger: "Damn you..." Lestrade whispered. "You shagged me so hard I can't even feel my legs..." He chuckled lightly, feeling overly tired.

You: "That was rather the point," Mycroft laughed. He pressed a kiss to Greg's temple and wrapped his arms around the man's waist. "You weren't complaining during."

Stranger: "I couldn't think during, babe," Lestrade laughed and struggled to turn over in Mycroft's arms. When he finally was facing Mycroft, he caught his lips and kissed him softly.

You: Mycroft smiled into the kiss and returned it. He just moved his lips against Greg's, one hand sliding up to cup the nape of his neck. "I love you, Greg," he said, feeling as if he could never say it enough. Again.

Stranger: "I love you too, hun," Lestrade whispered back, smiling at how many times Mycroft repeated the phrase.

You: "Are you hungry?" Mycroft finally asked after basking in the warmth of Greg around him. "Because I don't think I could stay awake long enough to eat anything."

Stranger: Lestrade laughed slightly. "If you can't eat, why are you asking?"

You: "Because I'll stay awake with you if you're hungry," Mycroft said sleepily.

Stranger: Lestrade laughed again and kissed Mycroft's nose. "I'll be fine till morning, babe. You sleep."

You: "Sounds like a good plan," Mycroft yawned. "Good night, love." He tucked his head under Greg's chin and closed his eyes. Sleep claimed him quickly as the sound of Greg's breathing soothed him.

Stranger: "Good night, my love," Lestrade kissed the top of Mycroft's head before quickly being pulled into sleep. He relaxed into Mycroft's heartbeat and breathing and was soon fast asleep.

You: John stared at his computer screen and contemplated what he wanted to write next. This scene was difficult and he wanted to find the perfect words. The perfect way to portray the character who had almost come to life for him. His cellphone beeping insistently at him broke his artistic reverie. He looked away from Gabriel's dialogue with a sigh but smiled when he saw Lestrade's number.

Stranger: Hey, want to do something? -GL

You: Sure. Can you give me a half hour though? I really want to finish up this scene in my novel. - JW

Stranger: Sure. Do I get a sneak peak anytime soon? -GL

You: Why not? I'll bring the first chapter with me. Where do you want to meet? - JW

Stranger: Awesome! Want me to pick you up and we can go to the bar? -GL

You: All right. I'll see you then, Greg. - JW

Stranger: See you then. -GL

You: John put his phone back on the desk, his smile slipping as he stared at the computer screen again. He ran through memories of Sherlock in his head, trying to find the best words for Gabriel. Finally, something clicked and John wrote furiously for the next 15 minutes. When he was done, he set up chapter 1 to print then changed into a new outfit.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled up to 221B a little early. He leaned back in the seat and closed his eyes, figuring he had some time.

You: After he had changed, John grabbed the papers out of the printer and threw on his coat. After debating for a moment, he grabbed the familiar blue scarf off of the coat stand and wrapped it around his throat. He headed downstairs and waved as he saw Lestrade sitting in his car.

Stranger: "Are you wearing his-" Lestrade cut off as John got in. He took the end of the scarf in his fingers and looked at it.

You: "Yes," John said simply. "It helps me feel close to him, sometimes. And it would look odd carrying the skull around." He laughed, inviting Lestrade to share in the joke.

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled and let go of the scarf. He watched as John smoothed it and caressed it so gently with his fingers.

You: "So out to a pub?" John asked, holding up the hand with the papers in it. "You can read while we drink."

Stranger: "Sounds great," Lestrade smiled, pulling away from the curb. He started down the road and, out of the corner of his eye, watched John play with the scarf.

You: John said nothing more on the drive, the scarf a warming presence in his fingers. He imagined he could still smell Sherlock on it though the scent had faded months ago.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled into the pub's parking lot and turned off the car. He waited for John to get out first.

You: John slowly got out of the car and frowned at his cane. He was tired of using it and tried to forget about it when he was sitting down. But he couldn't walk easily without it. Grabbing it and slamming it into the ground with anger, John took a deep breath. He calmed himself down then smiled at Lestrade. "Ready when you are," he said, gesturing at the pub.

Stranger: Lestrade looked at John worriedly as he slammed the cane down. "You alright?" He asked as he and John started towards the door.

You: "Just frustrated with my leg," John admitted, a flush rising on his cheeks. "As much as I know it's psychosomatic, I can't convince my leg of it." He opened the door and the smells of beer and pretzels rushed out to meet them.

Stranger: Lestrade bowed his head to John as he entered the door. "I understand, that can be frustrating," Lestrade called over the chatter of the front door crowd.

You: "Yes, it can be," John said, moving up to the bar and ordering two pints. He waited until the bartender slapped them down in front of him then he and Lestrade carried them to a corner table. "I've gotten used to it though," John continued.

Stranger: Lestrade sipped his beer and shook his head. "You shouldn't have to be 'used to it'," he said, setting his glass down and looking at John.

You: "Maybe," John shrugged. "But right now, it's something I'd rather not think about. Here's the first chapter I promised you." He handed the printed sheets to Lestrade and took a drink of his beer while Lestrade read.

Stranger: Lestrade read over the pages, sipping his drink. He really got into it and was sad when he read the last few lines. He handed the papers back to John and said, "This was great! Can't wait to read the rest. You have a talent there."

You: John flushed happily as he took the papers back. "Thanks," he said. "I've found I really enjoy doing it. I can hear the characters in my head now and sometimes, the words just flow."

Stranger: "I say you can get published with that, and I only read the first chapter!" Lestrade beamed, nodding towards the papers. "You're really, really good!"

You: "Thanks, Greg," John repeated, happiness flooding through him. He had worried that he wasn't good enough, that the story wasn't good enough to be published. "I'm almost done with the novel now," he continued. "Hopefully, once its done, I can find a publisher."

Stranger: "You'll have to forward the document to me first," Lestrade winked, raising his glass. "I really wanna know what happens now."

You: "Sure," John said, grinning. "Maybe you could even proofread it for me." He had tried doing so on some of the previous chapters and wasn't very good at proofreading his own writing. He kept seeing what he intended to write rather than the errors that were there sometimes.

Stranger: "I'd love to!" Lestrade beamed. "Sounds like a good excuse to just read it."

You: "Sounds good," John nodded. He was rather proud of the story and wanted to share it. "Want me to email the chapters I've completed to you so you can get started on it?" He took another drink of his pint and realized it was almost gone. He signalled the bartender for another round.

Stranger: "Sounds perfect. Can't wait," Lestrade nodded and watched as the next two drinks were set on the table in front of them. He polished off his first glass and reached for the second. He downed half in a few swallows and set the glass back down, the beer refreshing his throat.

You: "So you know what's been going on with me," John said, after taking a drink of his second beer. "What's been going on with you? Any interesting cases?"

Stranger: "Not really. Just finishing unpacking the last few boxes. I told you I was moving in with Mycroft, right?" Lestrade said partly into his glass.

You: "No you haven't," John exclaimed. "Congratulations! And when did you guys come to that decision?"

Stranger: "Around a week ago. We decided that we wanted to live together, so I sold my flat and started moving in with Mycroft. It's really nice, not being all alone after work and just being able to come home to someone who I love. You know?"

You: John smiled at Lestrade, a hint of sadness playing around his lips. "Yeah," he said quietly. Then, the thought of Sherlock sequed into a memory of the man he'd met earlier today at the coffee shop. Though he couldn't have said why. "Hey, Greg," John said thoughtfully. "You know a guy who works with the police on suicides? Been working for three years and his name's Dean Michaels."

Stranger: Lestrade swallowed hard in surprise at the name. He regained his breath after coughing slightly for a moment before answering, "Never heard of him."

You: John nodded and went back to drinking, wondering why he thought of the man so suddenly. Maybe he'd worked with Dimmock when he and Sherlock had dealt with the Chinese smuggling ring. "How's Mycroft doing?" he asked to break the silence.

Stranger: "He's doing well," Lestrade said, setting down his empty glass. "Going out of town in a day or two. Doesn't know for how long."

You: "What's he doing?" John asked curiously. "He never seemed to leave London before."

Stranger: "It's some sort of meeting," Lestrade shrugged, giving the answer Mycroft had told him to use if anyone asked. "Says it's important."

You: "Well, I guess the world might need him in more places than here," John laughed. "After all, the British Government has lots of work to do."

Stranger: "He really does..." Lestrade said. His mind started racing to the possibilities of what could happen to his lover in what he was actually going to be doing. Feeling his nerves and heart rate spike, he ordered two more drinks.

You: "Hey, what's the matter?" John asked, staring intently at Lestrade's face. He'd seen enough men panic and try to hide it to know that's what was going on now. "What are you panicking about?"

Stranger: "Nothing," Lestrade shook his head, picked up the newly filled mug, and downed it in a few big, swift swallows.

You: John slanted a knowing glance at Lestrade, certain he was lying. "You know you can talk to me right?" he asked. "I'm not going to break apart at the slightest hint of a problem."

Stranger: "I know, thanks," Lestrade smiled the best he could. "It's nothing, really."

You: "All right," John said skeptically. "But you should know I don't believe you. Offer's out there to talk."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded and sat back in his seat. "Thanks."

You: John let the silence last between them, slowly drinking his second beer. He didn't want a repeat of the last time they'd gone to a bar. His thoughts drifted in a well-worn path: Sherlock, his novel, Gabriel Tollen, how bored he was sometimes and then around again.

Stranger: Lestrade sat back into the booth, looking around the bar. Obvious drunks, couples on dates, heartbroken singles. All were obvious in their drunken state. Lestrade felt his phone buzz against his leg and dug out the device.

You: "Mycroft?" John asked curiously when he saw the phone in Lestrade's hand. The screen was turned away from him so he couldn't read the name.

Stranger: "Um... Yeah," Lestrade said slowly, opening the text from Sherlock and making sure John couldn't see the screen. You busy? -SH

You: Yeah. Out for a drink with John. What do you need? - GL

Stranger: With John? Careful. You remember what happened last time, and if it happens again... -SH

You: Which time are you referring to? When we both got drunk or when he saw you in the park? - GL

Stranger: Drunk, Lestrade. It better not happen again. -SH

You: It's not. We're both being careful of how much we drink and I won't do that to Mycroft. You should know me better than that. - GL

Stranger: Happened last time, but whatever. That's not why I texted you... But... How's John? -SH

You: He's doing well. Did you know he's writing a book? I read the first chapter and it's amazing. - GL

Stranger: Yeah, he sort of told me. -SH

You: He told me he met a Dean Michaels. That was you, wasn't it? - GL

Stranger: Sort of, yes. -SH

You: What happened and do I need to do damage control? John didn't really elaborate just asked if I knew you. Said I didn't. - GL

Stranger: No, he didn't realize it was me. Don't worry. We simply talked. -SH

You: Good. I don't know how I'd spin it if I had to convince him it wasn't you. What did you text me for? - GL

Stranger: Was wondering if you had any new information. Mycroft and I are leaving in a few days, as I'm sure he told you. -SH

You: Yes he did and I'm still not happy he's going. But I understand why. And I haven't found anything yet but I will search more tomorrow. - GL

Stranger: Good. Maybe we should all meet tomorrow. Molly's at noon? -SH

You: I won't be able to get away that early. Can we make it 6? - GL

Stranger: Fine, six. -SH

You: See you then, Sherlock. - GL

Stranger: See you then. -SH

You: As Lestrade put his phone away, John looked up from his drink with a question in his eyes. "Everything all right?" he asked.

Stranger: Lestrade sighed and rubbed his hands over his eyes. "Yeah, just Mycroft asking me something."

You: "You're acting like something's wrong," John observed. "You're all tense and annoyed. Mycroft going away hitting you harder than you expected?"

Stranger: "Yeah, it really is..." Lestrade nodded then began to look back around the bar, trying to look more normal.

You: "If you want to head back to spend some time with him, you can," John said. "You should spend what time with him you can before he leaves."

Stranger: "He's at the office right now, but thanks," Lestrade smiled at John.

You: John nodded and finished his glass. "I think I'm good for one more," he said, pointing at the empty glass. "You want one?"

Stranger: "Sounds good, but only one more," Lestrade smile, motioning for two more drinks.

You: John let out a warm laugh and pushed his glass towards the edge of the table. "Yeah, that sounds like a good idea," he said when he caught his breath. "So you didn't elaborate much on the chapter you read. What did you think of the characters?"

Stranger: "Very realistic. Very..." Lestrade thought for a moment. "Familiar."

You: "Good," John nodded, satisfied. "I based Gabriel on Sherlock. Seemed fitting to memorialize him in a novel like I was doing with my blog."

Stranger: Lestrade smiled as he lowered his drink he had been sipping on. "That's nice, John. I think it's the perfect way to keep a part of him alive."

You: "Thanks. Though I was expecting a bit more argument," John admitted. "I went back to my therapist for a bit after the hospital and told her my plans for the character. She tried to dissuade me from it."

Stranger: "Well, it might be my slightly intoxicated state talking here, but I think it's sweet," Lestrade grinned and sipped his drink some more.

You: "I think so too," John said as the bartender plunked their third round on the table. "It's a way for me to hold onto him now that he's gone."

Stranger: "That's a good way of holding on," Lestrade smiled and nodded.

You: "Glad you think so," John said, smiling and toasting him with his pint. "I should have taken Mycroft's advice a couple years ago. When I first met him, he told me to fire her."

Stranger: "Fire her?" Lestrade questioned.

You: "She thought I was suffering some form of PTSD because of the war," John explained. "That's why she thought my hand shook. But Mycroft got the right answer. It was because I missed the thrill and danger."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded in understanding and sipped his drink. He glanced around the bar again and took in everyone's faces.

You: "Looking for someone?" John asked when the silence stretched on a little too long.

Stranger: "Humm?" Lestrade asked, looking back to John. "No, not really. Just looking."

You: "You know, for the past several months, you've been acting a little odd," John observed. "You always act like you're in two or three places at once in your mind. Everything really ok with you?"

Stranger: "Yeah, John, I'm fine," Lestrade tried to smile. "Just a lot going on in work, cases and all."

You: "Well, if you ever need the opinion of an old doctor, you know where to find me," John smiled at him. He took another few sips of his pint and looked around the room with Lestrade. Everyone here was so easy for him to read. John laughed quietly to himself as he realized how much Sherlock had rubbed off on him.

Stranger: "You know you're not that old," Lestrade said as he followed a dancing couple with his eyes. "You have to be fairly young to keep up with Sherlock as well as you did."

You: "It was thrilling," John said smiling. "I never felt my age running after him. Still can't believe I'm almost 40."

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled. "I think we all think that about our age, John. Never believing it till it really hits us," Lestrade sipped some more of his drink.

You: "Isn't that the truth," John said dryly. He finished his beer and pushed the glass to the edge of the table again. "I think that's about enough beer for me," he said, smiling again.

Stranger: "Agreed," Lestrade chuckled, polishing his glass off and pushing it next to John's.

You: John grabbed a few pretzels from the bowl on the table and ate them silently, still studying the other people in the bar. Some of the couples he smiled at, though it hurt slightly. He wished he had been able to get Sherlock out at least once for a drink. "I think I've about had it for tonight," John said tiredly. "It's been a long day for me."

Stranger: "Want me to drive you home?" Lestrade smiled, turning back to John.

You: "If you would, please," John said. "I've been trying to be sparing on how many cabs I take. Have to be careful about money now."

Stranger: "I understand, I'll be here if you need help. Never be afraid to call me," Lestrade said, sliding out of the booth.

You: "Thanks," John said, nodding and following. Though he really had no intention of calling on the offered help unless he really needed to. He preferred to carry on by himself. "Would you tell Mycroft I said hi and that I'm not angry anymore?" he asked. "I'd like to speak with him sometime after he comes back from his trip. Learn more about Sherlock."

Stranger: Lestrade inwardly flinched as thoughts of Mycroft's "trip," but forced a smile. "Of course. I'm sure he'd be glad to talk to you again. He always asks me how you're doing."

You: "That surprises me a bit," John admitted as they walked outside. "He never seemed the type to care at all. Anytime we talked, it was always about how I could deal with Sherlock."

Stranger: "He's getting better about that," Lestrade smiled and opened the car door for John. "Since, well, you know." He winked.

You: John laughed and raised an eyebrow at Lestrade opening the door. He got in anyways, closing it himself.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled and closed the door behind him, bowing for a laugh. He went around and got in his own door, laughing slightly.

You: "Practicing our comedic act?" John asked dryly as Lestrade got into the car. He laughed again.

Stranger: "Guess you can say that," Lestrade chuckled as he pulled out of his spot and started out onto the road.

You: "If you ever go on stage, let me know," John joked. "I want to be there for a good laugh."

Stranger: "You kidding me, I'd bring you up there with me!" Lestrade said, as he turned a corner. He shot John a knowing glance.

You: John just laughed and shook his head. He watched the people walking on the street and wasn't surprised when more story ideas popped into his head. He pulled out his small notebook and asked, "You mind if I write for a moment? Got some good ideas forming."

Stranger: "Of course not," Lestrade smiled, focusing on the road ahead. "Write away."

You: "Thanks," John said absently before carefully writing notes on his ideas. The ending he was sure on, it was the bits getting there that he was having difficulty with. Though his newest plot epiphany might make the perfect bridge between what was finished now and the end that was still unwritten.

Stranger: Lestrade focused on the road as he listened to the careful scratches of the pen on John's notebook. He was happy John had found something so perfect for him to keep his mind busy.

You: After finishing writing down his thoughts, a few lines of dialogue, and a quick description, John was fairly satisfied that he'll be able to pick up the threads of his idea later. He put the notebook away and turned to Lestrade with a satisfied smile. "I think I just figured out how to get my novel to the end," John said happily.

Stranger: "Oh? That's great!" Lestrade perked up a little in his seat.

You: "I'm thinking if I keep going at the pace I have been, I should finish it up in a few more months," John continued, biting on the pen he was still holding in his hand.

Stranger: "Awesome, can't wait to begin editing!"

You: John laughed again, surprised at how often he was able to do so now. He always felt lighter around Lestrade and to a lesser extent around Molly. Though he hardly ever saw her anymore. Perhaps it was the fact that they had believed in Sherlock like he had.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled up to the flat and got out of the car as John did. He went around and met John at his door. "I'll text you sometime in the next few days. Maybe after Mycroft leaves?"

You: "Sure," John nodded. "And I'll send you what I've completed so far later tonight. You can read it at your leisure."

Stranger: "Okay, I'll probably start it after he leaves. I want to hold him as long as I can before that. He doesn't know when he can come back," Lestrade said sadly, shrugging.

You: "That's fine. I completely get that," John said, placing his hand on Lestrade's shoulder and squeezing gently. "And if you need to get out sometime while he's gone, just give me a call."

Stranger: "Sounds like a plan," Lestrade smiled. He pulled the other man into a hug. "I'll talk to you later."

You: John hugged him back and waved before heading upstairs. He dropped his notebook next to his computer so he didn't have to search for it in the morning then headed upstairs to his room. And if he paused outside Sherlock's room, looking longingly inside, there was no one else in the flat to call him on it.

Stranger: Sherlock paced the flat, his hands stapled to his chin as he thought. He passed Molly, who was sitting on the couch watching him in silence, sipping her tea as Sherlock's ran cold on the table, long forgotten.

You: Lestrade knocked on the door with the hand that wasn't holding Mycroft's. He was planning on making the most of the time they had before Mycroft left and he wasn't letting go of his hand for anything. They waited quietly for Sherlock or Molly to answer.

Stranger: Sherlock paced the floor quickly in long, elegant strides. He opened the door and left it open as he paced back into the flat and sat down next to Molly on the couch, finally picking up and sipping his tea.

You: "I found a few more things," Lestrade said without preamble. He sat down on the armchair and pulled Mycroft down to perch on the arm next to him. "Moran is definitely in Dublin and it looks like he's going to be there for a bit. He's rented a flat."

Stranger: "Did you find out where, hun?" Mycroft asked, leaning over to read over Greg's shoulder at the notes he had pulled from his jacket pocket.

You: "Yeah, I did," Lestrade said, grinning up at Mycroft. "I'm not a DI for nothing you know. The flat is under the name James Moran, which threw me at first. But it's at 12 Cumberland Street."

Stranger: "And you're sure it's the right one?" Sherlock questioned, finally speaking up. "We can't risk breaking into the wrong flat because of some idiotic mistake."

You: "I'm sure, Sherlock," Lestrade said rolling his eyes. "As part of the lease agreement, he had to provide a driver's license. It's him."

Stranger: "Good job, Greg," Mycroft smiled, leaning over and kissing Greg on top of the head, ignoring Sherlock's sigh and obvious eye rolling.

You: Lestrade grinned wider and tilted his head up to catch Mycroft's lips for a soft kiss. He broke it quickly, mindful of the others in the room. "So, hopefully, you two can get there and deal with him quickly," he said quietly.

Stranger: "Hopefully," Sherlock nodded, chewing his bottom lip in thought over the new information.

You: "We leave tomorrow," Mycroft said, reminding Sherlock. "Anthea has gotten us tickets on an afternoon flight."

Stranger: "How long is the flight?" Molly asked softly.

You: "About an hour and a half," Mycroft replied, arching an eyebrow at Molly. "Why do you ask?"

Stranger: "Just wondering..." Molly said slowly, retreating into her tea and shying away.

You: "Really, Molly, it's ok," Lestrade said, seeing the slight hurt in her eyes. "You're as much a part of this as the rest of us, if not more. What's on your mind?"

Stranger: "I was just asking, really... It's fine, you guys continue," She said, watching Lestrade shoot Mycroft a look.

You: "You should pack lightly for this, but I think we might need to bring our undercover clothes again," Mycroft said, dropping the question he'd asked Molly.

Stranger: "Agreed, and, if you can, don't pack anything else," Sherlock said over Lestrade's annoyed huff of disapproval. "We have no need for it."

You: "What do you mean?" Mycroft asked. "Why don't you think we'll need anything else?"

Stranger: "We'll, unless you plan on staying there longer than needed and away from your little boyfriend there," Sherlock nodded at Lestrade. "You won't need suits or anything."

You: "There's no need to get petty," Lestrade snapped, his temper fraying at the little insults Sherlock kept directing at them.

Stranger: Sherlock just shrugged a little. Mycroft placed a hand on Lestrade's back and soothed him slowly.

You: Lestrade took a deep breath and calmed himself down. He was fairly certain that Sherlock's antagonism came from the fact that he couldn't go to John. Though it was annoying as hell. "If that's everything?" Lestrade said, trailing off into a question at the end of the sentence.

Stranger: "Unless anyone has anything else?" Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow at Mycroft and Lestrade.

You: "That's all that I could find," Lestrade said as Mycroft shook his head. Lestrade stood up and pulled Mycroft close to him, pleased that the elder Holmes wasn't arguing over his possessiveness. "Good night, then, Sherlock, Molly," he said, moving towards the door.

Stranger: "Actually, Lestrade, quick thing?" Sherlock said, following them to the door and leaning on the edge of it.

You: "What's that?" Lestrade asked, staring at Sherlock quizzically.

Stranger: "Just tell me..." He paused for a moment. "How's John doing? Really? Truthfully?"

You: Lestrade thinks for several seconds, trying to get a clear and honest picture of John in his mind. "He seems better," he finally said. "He said he's almost done writing his novel and he's sending me what he's completed so I can read it for him. He laughs more and is far easier around people than he used to be. He's even forgiven Mycroft."

Stranger: "That's good..." Sherlock nods with a light smile. "Can you send me that novel of his? I'd love to read it."

You: "Of course," Lestrade said, a small smile crossing his lips. "He based the main character, Gabriel Tollen, on you, you know."

Stranger: "I know," Sherlock let the smile widen slightly. "One of the many reasons I want to read it. Can you send it ASAP so I can read it on the plane?"

You: "I'll send it when we get back," Lestrade promised. His smile bloomed fully on his face, surprised that Sherlock was letting down enough of his walls to show the heart he tried to keep hidden.

Stranger: "Thank you," He smiled again and nodded. "Night then. Mycroft."

You: "Good night, little brother," Mycroft said before turning to Molly and saying, "And thank you for letting us impose on your hospitality yet again, Molly. Good night."

Stranger: "Night, Mycroft, Greg," Molly smiled and called back from the couch.

You: Lestrade and Mycroft walked slowly back downstairs. Smiling, Mycroft slung an arm over his lover's shoulders and held him close. "After you mail the story to Sherlock, come to bed with me tonight?" he whispered in Greg's ear.

Stranger: Even by just the innocent question, he felt heat rush south. He smiled and quickly caught Mycroft's lips. "Of course. As long as you promise to stay awake for me."

You: "I can do that," Mycroft murmured against Greg's lips. He nipped at the other man's bottom lip playfully then pulled away to open the door for Greg. "After you," he said, holding the door.

Stranger: With a quick peck to Mycroft's lips, Lestrade folded into the car and smiled as Mycroft shut the door behind him, going to the other side.

You: Mycroft told the driver to take them back to his flat and then spent the ride with Greg wrapped in his arms. He placed light kisses on Greg's lips, teasing and playful.

Stranger: Lestrade ran his hands over Mycroft's arms, cherishing each kiss deeply. He wanted to just hold this wonderful man and never let go.

You: The driver tapped discreetly on the privacy screen to let them know they were home. Mycroft laughed as he let Greg go and got out of the car.

Stranger: "You're so adorable when you laugh," Lestrade cooed, taking Mycroft's hand in his own and giving it a loving squeeze.

You: "Adorable?" Mycroft echoed, squeezing back in turn. "I think I can deal with that." He walked up the steps to the flat and opened the door, leading Greg inside.

Stranger: "You think you can deal with it," Lestrade repeated, pulling Mycroft back to him as soon as the door closed. He balled up Mycroft's collar in his hands and pulled him close to him.

You: "If you give me enough incentive, love," Mycroft said playfully, his breath ghosting over Greg's lips. He moved closer, the barest hint of space between their lips.

Stranger: "Like...?" Lestrade chuckled darkly, lust coating his voice over.

You: "A kiss would be a good start," Mycroft breathed. "Though hearing you make that sound might be enough all in itself."

Stranger: Lestrade let out a small, helpless whimper before closing the space completely.

You: Mycroft hummed into the kiss before licking into Greg's mouth. He kissed him breathless then broke the kiss. "Upstairs?" he suggested

Stranger: "Have to forward that thing to... To Sherlock..." Lestrade' said gently, smiling and slightly pushing away.

You: "Then you'd better hurry," Mycroft said, smirking lightly. He shrugged out of his coat and suit jacket, hanging the coat in the closet and draping the jacket over his arm. "I'll wait for you in the bedroom, love."

Stranger: Lestrade watched Mycroft retreat upstairs and loaded up his computer. He booted it up and signed in to the email, finding John's email to him and forwarding it to Sherlock.

You: Mycroft stripped the rest of his suit off quickly then brushed his teeth. Afterwards, he slid into bed and pulled the covers up to his shoulders. Waiting quietly, Mycroft chuckled to himself at the thought of the goodbye he had planned.

Stranger: Lestrade shut off the computer and stripped of his coat, standing. He placed the computer on the table and started towards the bedroom. He paused as he entered the room. "Are-are you..?" He asked pointing as Mycroft under the blanket. "Under the..?"

You: "There are many ways you could finish that question, love," Mycroft laughed, a smirk playing on his lips. "Am I under the blanket, yes. What were you going to finish your sentence with?"

Stranger: "Do you have your... Clothes still on..?" Lestrade asked, his heart picking up in it's rate.

You: "Why don't you come find out, love?" Mycroft offered, raising an eyebrow at Greg. He could see desire in Greg's eyes and knew it was in his own as well.

Stranger: Lestrade made his way over to the bed slowly and crawled on top of the sheets. He sat and crossed his legs, one hand starting to move towards Mycroft, stopping and landing half way between them. He wanted to touch him so badly.

You: Mycroft watched Greg, saw his hesitation. "What are you waiting for?" he asked. "You can touch you know. I want you to."

Stranger: Lestrade blushed, looking away a little. "I know," He smiled. Gently, he reached all the way over and gripped Mycroft through the sheets, cupping him and rolling his palm.

You: Mycroft hissed quietly and rolled his hips into Greg's hand. He smiled and brought his arms out from under the blanket to pull Greg closer to him. "So hesitant," he breathed into Greg's ear. "What's the matter, love?"

Stranger: "I don't want you to go," Lestrade said slowly, moving to go to Mycroft's hold. "What if this is the last time I touch you?"

You: Brushing a hand over Greg's cheek, Mycroft smiled gently at him and placed a kiss on his lips. "It won't be," he said. "And if you keep thinking like that, you're only going to hurt yourself more. Think of me, think of being in my arms."

Stranger: "I am," Lestrade said, cuddling into the hold more. He placed his hand back to cup Mycroft and rocked his hand again.

You: Loosening his hold a bit, Mycroft undid the buttons on Greg's shirt and slid it off his shoulders. He pressed kisses to Greg's chest and moved up to his neck. His hand moved down and paused on the button of his pants. "I'll come back to you," Mycroft promised, looking deep into Greg's eyes. "I love you too much not to."

Stranger: "I love you, Mycroft. Please, promise me you'll be careful..." Lestrade said as he pulled back the covers to reveal Mycroft's full naked body. His breath hitched as his eyes swept down.

You: "I promise you," Mycroft said solemnly, the smile gone from his lips. "I've never been more serious about anything, Greg. I'm going to come back to you."

Stranger: "I hope. I need this body as mine forever," Lestrade said, running his hands over Mycroft's revealed body. He backed up to sweep his eyes more openly.

You: "It's yours if I have anything to say about it," Mycroft muttered, his breath catching as he watched Greg run his eyes over his body again. He undid Greg's pants and made him shift up to his knees so Mycroft could slide them down.

Stranger: Lestrade laid back down and smiled. "You have nothing to say about it," he laughed and kissed Mycroft deeply and feverishly.

You: Mycroft ran his hand down Greg's side and cupped his hip, pulling the man close to him. He played with Greg's tongue, pressing at it gently when it thrust into his mouth.

Stranger: Lestrade ground his hips into Mycroft's playfully. He chuckled into his lips and nipped at his bottom lip.

You: Carefully, Mycroft made Greg turn in his arms until he could pull his back against his chest. "I want to try something different this time," Mycroft murmured as he pumped his hips slowly into Greg's.

Stranger: Lestrade swallowed as his mouth went dry in excitement. "God? Really..?"

You: "Why do you think I turned you love?" Mycroft said, kissing the nape of Greg's neck. He trailed a hand down Greg's side and squeezed one buttock playfully before slipping between them and circling around his entrance.

Stranger: Lestrade hissed and relaxed. He wanted to ask what Mycroft had in mind but the pleasure was overtaking him to the point where he couldn't talk.

You: Hooking one arm underneath Greg to hold him tight, Mycroft teased him for another minute then slipped inside him. He peppered kisses along Greg's neck and shoulders before adding another finger. He stroked, stretching Greg and driving gasps from him.

Stranger: "God, Mycroft!" Lestrade moaned loudly, throwing his head back into Mycroft's neck. He moaned deeply in a growl. He nipped his own lip and moaned darkly.

You: "You like that?" Mycroft asked, sucking at Greg's neck. "Keep talking, love. I want to hear you panting and screaming." He pressed a third finger in and curled them slightly, pumping faster.

Stranger: "M-Mycroft..." Lestrade moaned quietly, his voice leaving him.

You: Removing his fingers, Mycroft shifted his hips until he could slide the head of his erection inside. He paused just inside and raised himself up on his elbow to look over Greg's shoulder and into his eyes.

Stranger: Lestrade's eyes fluttered closed as Mycroft started into him. He felt Mycroft shift behind him, raising up, and tried to open his eyes a little. He squinted up at him with a smile. "Don't you dare stop..." he whispered, his voice reflecting his arousal.

You: "I like when you get bossy, love," Mycroft chuckled and then buried his face in Greg's neck. He pushed further inside until he was completely inside then paused again. After pressing a kiss to Greg's neck, he started pumping in and out, a long and quick rhythm.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned darkly, his own erection throbbing for attention. He slid a hand down to grasp himself and start pumping as Mycroft thrust into him. He growled as he hit the buried bundle of nerves.

You: "You're beautiful, Greg," Mycroft growled, lifting his head to stare over Greg's shoulder. He cupped Greg's hip and moved faster, his own hips snapping forward with a small grunt each time.

Stranger: "Mycroft..." He answered back in a growl. He pressed his hips back to meet Mycroft's forcefully, forcing him deeper in.

You: "Scream for me," Mycroft whispered as he thrust as deep as he could. He could feel Greg shivering in his arms, trembling at every point their bodies met.

Stranger: "C-can't..." Lestrade hissed, his body giving out on him.

You: Mycroft couldn't help the possessive growl that rumbled up his throat and held Greg tighter to him. He shortened his thrusts, only pulling out a few inches before slamming back in. "I want you to come for me, Greg," Mycroft purred in his ear, running his tongue around the curve of it.

Stranger: Lestrade shivered and nodded. His hand tightened around himself and he began to pump faster, moaning louder.

You: Mycroft watched avidly as Greg's hand moved over himself. He could feel his breath catching and had to remember to keep moving. Greg felt wonderful, around him and moving back against him. "I love you," he said softly, licking a stripe from the crook of Greg's neck to the point of his shoulder.

Stranger: "I... Love you... Too..." Lestrade panted. He hated how Mycroft could so effortlessly form perfect sentences while he was pointed away to barely saying anything at all. Yet, at the same time, he found it strangely arousing. He moaned at the thought.

You: "Keep doing that," Mycroft muttered. "I love hearing you like this." He could feel the warmth and tightening in his belly and knew he wasn't going to last much longer. Still snapping his hips forward, Mycroft tilted his head just enough to bite and suck at Greg's neck.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned and muttered his lover's name as he felt his stomach tighten. He bit his lip and bucked back into Mycroft.

You: "Come for me, love," Mycroft whispered again before his own orgasm overtook him. He stilled deep inside Greg, his muscles frozen as a loud groan that vaguely shaped Greg's name escaped his lips.

Stranger: Lestrade only had about half a second of enjoying Mycroft filling him with his seed before he burst himself. He came all over his own hand and the bed sheets, warming the skin it caressed.

You: "You are all mine," Mycroft breathed, satisfaction threading his voice. He ran his hand up from Greg's hip and wrapped his arm around his waist. Hugging him tightly, Mycroft just breathed in the smell of his lover, the sweat and earthy smell that was Greg.

Stranger: Lestrade lay there, unable to say anything. He was panting heavily and listening to Mycroft's steady breathing. He slowly turned over in Mycroft's arms. "Turn... Over..." He panted, caressing Mycroft's face with kisses.

You: "Why?" he asked while still doing so. He really did enjoy a bossy Greg. He leaned back after he had settled himself, seeking the warmth behind him.

Stranger: Lestrade, not wanting to wait, quickly and gently slid into Mycroft. He thrust in deeply and muttered. "I need to fuck you now, love... Of my life." he was still slightly out of breath.

You: "That was quick," Mycroft gasped as he arched back into Greg's chest. "I think you've been holding out on me a little bit, love."

Stranger: "How... So..?" Lestrade panted, thrusting in deeply again.

You: "You just orgasmed and.... you're hard already," Mycroft panted, his eyes closing. "Think of all the sex we could have had."

Stranger: "Because... Last time I tried... You forced me to... Stop, saying I would... Hurt myself," Lestrade moaned as he thrust as hard as he could.

You: "And if you... had explained I... would have cheerfully..... let you shag me senseless again," Mycroft said. He thrust his hips back hard against Greg, drawing him in deeper and screaming at the feeling.

Stranger: "Scream... My name..." Lestrade growled, cupping Mycroft's hips and forcing himself in deeper.

You: "Harder, Greg," Mycroft screamed, bucking back against Greg's hips. More moans and gasps escaped his lips but he was past the point of coherent words now.

Stranger: Lestrade kissed Mycroft's shoulder blades and bucked forward harder. He dug his nails into his hips and pulled him closer so he could get in deeper. "Love... You..." He panted and nipped at his shoulder blades.

You: Mycroft moaned in response, grabbing Greg's hands with his own and pulling his arms around him. He threw his head back onto Greg's shoulder and one leg over Greg's to try to pull him in deeper.

Stranger: "God..." Lestrade moaned as he felt Mycroft's skin caresse his own. He lay his head on Mycroft's and pressed in farther, breathing deeply into the smell of Mycroft's sweaty hair.

You: "Yes," Mycroft hissed and bit his lip. He held on tightly to Greg and rolled forward slightly, pulling the other man on top of him.

Stranger: Lestrade angled himself better to fit the new possession. He thrusted in as hard and as deeply as he could, crying out as Mycroft tightened around him.

You: Mycroft smiled into a pillow as Greg pushed him into the mattress. This was perfect and he could still feel his lover all along his skin on his back. "Want you... to touch me...." Mycroft gasped, turning his head to look up at Greg.

Stranger: Lestrade nodded, sweat running down his forehead. He reached around and took Mycroft's erection in his hand. He started pumping slowly.

You: Hardening again under Greg's deft touch, Mycroft groaned and reached a hand back to run over Greg's hip. He could feel the muscles bunching and releasing underneath Greg's skin and the slick sheen of sweat coating both of them.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned loudly as his orgasm started through his body. "So... close, babe..." Lestrade moaned in almost a growl.

You: "Me too," Mycroft panted. "Want to feel you, love. Come inside me." Mycroft drew one of Greg's hands around his waist and up to his mouth, sucking two fingers inside his mouth and swirling his tongue around them.

Stranger: Lestrade let out a choked moaned before his orgasm burst into Mycroft. He screamed into Mycroft's back and curled his fingers inside his mouth. He rode his orgasm out in long, graceful waves, as graceful as he could, anyway. He nosed Mycroft's shoulder blade and, when his orgasm had finished, he traced the bone with his tongue.

You: Mycroft twisted his tongue around Greg's fingers one last time before releasing them and sighing loudly. "Next time I'm being an ass, let me know," Mycroft said feelingly. "That was amazing, love"

Stranger: "We're not done," Lestrade growled, his hand stroking Mycroft's erection. "You still need to finish."

You: "Oh, god, Greg," Mycroft whispered. He placed his hand over Greg's on his erection and stroked with him, his head falling back onto Greg's shoulder again. He could feel his orgasm approaching and pushed Greg's hand faster.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled out of Mycroft and pressed his whole body against Mycroft's back. He stroked gently, pulling Mycroft's hand away with his other hand. He ran his nails along the underside of Mycroft's erection.

You: Mycroft jerked hard at the mingled sensations of pleasure and pain and felt his orgasm burst out of him. He groaned out Greg's name, his eyes squeezing closed. "Love... you, Greg," Mycroft breathed when the haze lifted a bit.

Stranger: Lestrade slid a finger into Mycroft's entrance just to tease him a little. "Love you too, babe."

You: Mycroft's breath caught again at the invasion and he bit at his lower lip. "I do need sleep.... sometime tonight," he muttered, worrying at his lip.

Stranger: "Doubt that will happen, at this rate," Lestrade growled. He bent his finger inside Mycroft then pulled out. He kissed Mycroft's back and licked along it lightly.

You: "Can we just relax here now?" Mycroft asked, turning his head and smiling down at Greg. He turned carefully and wrapped his arms around Greg, pulling him up to kiss him.

Stranger: Lestrade ran his tongue along Mycroft's bottom lip and nipped on it.

 

You: Mycroft laughed lightly and swept his tongue over Greg's lips. "I love you, Greg," he murmured as he tucked his head under Greg's chin. "I'm going to miss you, love."

Stranger: Lestrade moaned and pressed his forehead against Mycroft's chest. "Why did you have to bring that up?" He moaned. "I was perfectly happy until you said that..."

You: "I'm sorry," Mycroft said softly, running a hand down Greg's back. "I'll be back as soon as I can, you know I will." He pressed a kiss to the top of Greg's head and settled them both down on the bed, pulling the blanket up. "Why don't you relax in my arms? I'll hold you until you fall asleep."

Stranger: "I don't want to sleep," Lestrade whispered slowly. "That's less time with you."

You: "Then don't sleep, love," Mycroft said. "But you need to relax." He rubbed circles into Greg's back over his shoulder blades, pressing at the knots underneath the skin.

Stranger: Lestrade relaxed into Mycroft's touch and sighed heavily.

You:Mycroft continued to rub Greg's back with gentle touches and pressed kisses to the top of his head. He knew how much it hurt Greg to let him go. "You know I'm grateful you understand, right?" Mycroft breathed in awe. "That you trust me enough to let me go and know I'll come back."

Stranger: "I love you, Mycroft. I have to trust you," Lestrade chuckled dryly. He kissed Mycroft's chest gently and buried his head into Mycroft's neck.

You: "There's no "have to" about it, love," Mycroft chided him softly. "Don't sell yourself short and accept a compliment when it comes your way." He smiled and ran his nails gently over Greg's back while listening to him breathe.

Stranger: "Sorry," Lestrade laughed, his back moving back to get more pressure against his skin, needing to feel Mycroft's gentle touch.

You: Mycroft pressed harder on Greg's back, moving from his shoulders to his lower back in long strokes. He smiled as Greg arched into his touch, reminded of a cat.

Stranger: "I love you," Lestrade almost purred, closing his eyes and relaxing even more into the warmth that surrounded him.

You: "I love you, Greg," Mycroft replied softly. He moved to Greg's shoulders and arms, gently massaging out the knots and relaxing Greg even further.

Stranger: Lestrade sighed and nosed Mycroft's chin. He kissed his jaw gently and smiled as Mycroft's hands moved over him.

You: Continuing the massage as best he could without moving Greg, Mycroft felt himself relaxing and his mind winding down. The only thoughts crossing his mind now were making Greg feel safe and loved.

Stranger: Lestrade cuddled closer to Mycroft and pressed his ear to his chest, his eyes fluttering closed. He listened to the soft pounds of Mycroft's heart beat and smiled as he heard the inward relaxing sigh Mycroft breathed. He knew how much Mycroft loved him, and he hoped he'd never have to go another day without that love.

You: Mycroft softened the pressure of his hands on Greg's skin and stroked lazily. He was putting himself to sleep listening to Greg breathing. "I don't think I can keep this up much longer," Mycroft yawned. "Do you mind if I fall asleep?"

Stranger: "As long as you still hold me, I don't mind at all," Lestrade whispered, kissing Mycroft's jaw line again. He yawned and cuddled back up. "I think I'm going to do the same."

You: "Good night, love," Mycroft murmured then dropped his head down onto the pillow. He tightened his arms in a hug around Greg for a few moments then loosened them. He tangled his legs with Greg's then pressed one last kiss to his head before falling into a sound sleep.

Stranger: Lestrade sighed deeply and nuzzled closer with Mycroft. He slowly drifted to sleep as his breathing came in time with Mycroft's and his heartbeat was the only sound Lestrade could hear.

\------------------------------------------------------------

You: The next afternoon, Mycroft was surprised to see Greg waiting outside the flat in his car as he pulled the small suitcase out after him. Mycroft walked to the car and smiled in the window. "What are you doing here, love?" he asked.

Stranger: "I wanted to take my lunch break and drive you over to the airport. Say goodbye and all," Lestrade smiled back. He got out of the car and went around to Mycroft, taking his suitcase from him. "You didn't think you could leave so easily, did you?"

 

You: Mycroft hugged him after the suitcase had been stowed in the trunk and pressed a kiss to Greg's temple. "I'm glad I don't get to," he said happily. "Thank you for taking your lunch to be with me."

Stranger: "No problem, my love," Lestrade said, catching Mycroft's lips with his. "I can eat when I get back, all I have is paperwork."

You: Mycroft kissed Greg, letting his mouth fall open on a soft sigh. With a grimace of regret, he pulled away and got into the car. "I hope I'll be back before you're done with all your paperwork," Mycroft said when Greg had gotten into the car.

Stranger: "I just hope you get back safe," Lestrade sighed, leaning over and kissing Mycroft again before pulling away from the curb and heading to the highway.

You: Mycroft didn't repeat the same promises he'd given the night before. There was no point. Greg had heard them and he accepted his reasoning for going and Mycroft hated to repeat himself too often. The airport came into view far too soon for his liking and he sighed sadly.

Stranger: Lestrade drove up to the parking lot and parked the car, sighing and leaning back in his seat as he turned the car off. He couldn't bring himself to look at Mycroft at first, but after a few moments of sitting in silence, he looked over to see Mycroft staring straight ahead out the window. "You okay?"

You: "Not really, no," Mycroft admitted, finally turning to look into Greg's eyes. "I believe I need to go, need to watch over Sherlock. But leaving is the last thing I want to do." One hand crept over and rested gently on Greg's knee, Mycroft's thumb stroking over the seam of his jeans.

Stranger: Lestrade reached down and took Mycroft's hand in his, giving him a soft, loving squeeze. "I'll text you whenever you text me, no matter how late. Just text me whenever you can that's safe for you. I'll be missing you in bed each night and at breakfast and movies won't be as interesting while you're gone, but as soon as you get back, I promise, I will shag you senseless and make you feel like you've never gone."

You: "I can't wait, love," Mycroft said, melting inside at Greg's words. Who knew the hard detective was a romantic at heart? He twined his fingers with Greg's and leaned forward to kiss him lightly on the lips, tracing his bottom lip with his tongue.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled him closer and deepened the kiss, opening his mouth to let Mycroft in. He moaned softly as his tongue ran over his, and Mycroft sucked on his tongue slowly.

You: Mycroft wrapped his tongue around Greg's then ran over the roof of his mouth. He flicked his tongue one more time at Greg's before pulling back and placing a chaste kiss on his lips. "I should go," Mycroft said morosely. "The plane leaves soon and I need to get through security."

Stranger: "I'll come with you as far as I can," Lestrade sighed, opening his car door and moving around to the trunk of the car to get Mycroft's suitcase. He insisted he took it for him and soon fell into step next to him.

You: Mycroft took Greg's hand and twined his fingers with his. They walked in silence through the terminal until they reached security and saw Sherlock standing and waiting for them. "This is as far as you can go, love," Mycroft said, placing a quick kiss on Greg's knuckles before releasing his hand.

Stranger: Lestrade folded Mycroft in a tight hug for a long moment, breathing in his scent. He pulled back and gently kissed him on the lips. "Be careful, my love," he whispered, kissing him again.

You: "Always," Mycroft said, smiling at Greg. He ignored the eye rolls and huffs from Sherlock as he said goodbye to Greg; his brother could deal with the overabundance of sentiment. "I'll text you when I land," Mycroft promised.

Stranger: "Alright. Have a good flight. Love you," Lestrade said as he let go and took a step back, waving to Sherlock over his shoulder.

You: "I love you, Greg," Mycroft said before heading through security. On the other side, he waited for Sherlock and waved goodbye as Sherlock made it through. "It may end in the next few days," Mycroft said cheerfully. "Looking forward to your return?"

Stranger: "Very much so, yes," Sherlock said, sitting down to slip his shoes back on. "Looks like you and Lestrade are still going strong, yeah?"

You: "Yes, we are," Mycroft said, grabbing his bag as it came out of the X-ray machine. "Everything is... perfect. He is wonderful."

Stranger: "Well, I'm glad to see you happy," Sherlock said as he sat up and waited for Mycroft to grab his shoes and put them back on as well. "Lestrade really is great for you."

You: "He is," Mycroft agreed, slipping his shoes back on and standing straight again. "You'll have your chance with John, you know. I still monitor him and he loves you still."

Stranger: "He does?" Sherlock asked, standing as well. "I'm glad, but out of curiosity, how do you know?"

You: "He talks to you," Mycroft explained. "I don't think he's even aware he's doing it most of the time. When he writes, he talks things out into the air. Always with the same fondness I'd heard in his voice when he talked about you before this all happened."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded, smiling to himself. "I think I'm going to grab a coffee for the flight," Sherlock said, pointing to a small coffee shop over his shoulder. "Want one? Or a tea?"

You: "Tea, please," Mycroft replied, a small smile dancing on his lips. He recognized this tactic from when they were still children and Sherlock didn't want to face something he had to. Or told himself he couldn't have.

Stranger: Sherlock went over to the counter of the coffee shop and ordered a black coffee for himself, and a tea for Mycroft. He paid and stepped to the side, waiting for the drinks. John still wants me... he thought as the smells of different drinks surrounded him. He may take me back yet!

You: Mycroft watched Sherlock's face, the wonder and hope apparent even at the distance they were apart. He wished he could just tell John that Sherlock was still alive, tell John that there was still hope. But Moran was the most dangerous of all Moriarty's web and John would want to help if he knew. John would probably do just about anything to be by Sherlock's side if Mycroft told him.

Stranger: Sherlock picked up the drinks as they were pushed towards him and went back over to Mycroft. "Here you go," he said, passing him the tea and sipping from his own coffee.

You: "Thank you," Mycroft said seriously and sipped at the tea. He didn't say anything, tried not to let on about the thoughts circling his mind. Though he was pretty sure Sherlock could guess at a few, Mycroft knew the only way to keep from hurting his brother more was to keep silent. Soon, an announcement for their flight echoed through the terminal and Mycroft stood, finishing his tea.

Stranger: Sherlock stood next to his brother, taking his bags and polishing off his coffee, tossing the cup in a nearby bin. He started up to the gate's ticket counter, hearing Mycroft's footsteps behind him. As they stood in line to board the plane, he turned to him. "Thanks for, um, coming and all..."

You: "You don't have to thank me," Mycroft replied. "I still want to protect my little brother, much as we may argue now."

Stranger: "Thanks," Sherlock forced a smile and moved forward with the line. He led Mycroft to the middle of the plane and slipped into the seats. He pushed his bag under the seat in front of him and leaned back.

You: Mycroft stowed his bag in the overhead compartment then sat down in the aisle seat. He looked around the plane, noting the nervous fliers, the confident travelers, and all the people in between. "How do you want to deal with Moran?" he asked quietly. "Follow him for a day or so?"

Stranger: "We need to take extra care on him. We may want to follow him around and learn as much as we can for a few days. He's very dangerous, we can't risk anything," Sherlock said, bothering his bottom lip.

You: "And I'm fairly sure if he even gets a hint he's being followed, he'll bolt," Mycroft said darkly, glaring out the window. This whole situation was fraying his last nerve.

Stranger: "I know, but we can't just dive in blind. We have to observe him," Sherlock said, snapping Mycroft's attention back to him.

You: "Agreed," Mycroft nodded. "We can't really afford to lose him. He may decide to take out the people on Moriarty's list because he'd been followed." Mycroft was watching Sherlock's eyes carefully and noted the hastily smothered flash of fear and panic in his eyes.

Stranger: "I-I know... we have to be very careful. John and Lestrade are at risk here as well, you know that as well as I do."

You: "I do," Mycroft agreed. "And I know how much you want to finish this. But you must keep a clear head about this. Don't let impatience ruin our chance at him."

Stranger: "I know. Any move we make we decide on together, agreed?" Sherlock said slowly, avoiding eye contact with Mycroft. "This is your battle as much as it is mine, now. You have just as much at stake."

You: "Very well," Mycroft said, nodding somberly. Greg meant everything to him; he didn't want to contemplate losing him. The plane taxied to the runway and took off, the engines rumbling reassuringly behind them.

Stranger: Sherlock sat back in his seat, listening to the sound of the engines and letting his eyes closed, with no intention to sleep. He had to calm down. His pulse was racing, his heart, pounding. Why was he so nervous?

You: The plane flew smoothly towards Dublin, the passengers talking quietly on board. There seemed to be a pervasive hush that no one wanted to disturb. Mycroft tipped his head back against the seat and let his thoughts wander to Greg until the pilot announced the plane was beginning its descent.

Stranger: Sherlock let out a long, nerve-calming sigh, opening his eyes and looking out the window. This was it. This was the place his whole life would change. For better or for worse, he didn't know; and that's what bothered him.

You: Mycroft kept his silence while the plane taxied to the terminal, darting glances at Sherlock. His brother had been on edge the whole flight, as if he expected something to happen. Now that they were on the ground again, Sherlock had relaxed. Mycroft hid a small smile and wondered if Sherlock was afraid of flying.

Stranger: Sherlock glanced over at his brother and caught his glance and small smile that danced on his face. "What?" He questioned, narrowing his eyes at the look.

You: "Fear of flying?" Mycroft asked softly, struggling to keep the mirth out of his voice.

Stranger: "No," Sherlock said, scrunching up his nose as though the very thought had a very distasteful odor. "Why?"

You: "You looked terrified while we were in the air," Mycroft observed. "What were you thinking?"

Stranger: Sherlock shook his head. "Just how much of our lives rest in the outcome of this... How badly our lives can be affected by the smallest mistake."

You: "You'll drive yourself mad thinking like that. You have to concentrate on getting the job done and knowing you can," Mycroft said forcefully. He flashed Sherlock an intense look and continued, "It's how I approach every problem in my work. I know I can solve it so I do."

Stranger: "I know you're right," Sherlock said at length. He sighed again and ran a hand through his hair. "You're right. I need to focus, not worry."

You: The plane's door opened and the passengers slowly made their way out. Mycroft grabbed his bag and walked towards the door, looking back to make sure Sherlock was following. He couldn't really explain it, but it felt like bad luck to be separated. After all, the first time they were separated in Vancouver the person entered the flat they were staying in.

Stranger: Sherlock fell into step behind Mycroft, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder when he turned around to look for him. They left the plane without so much of a word to each other, staying quiet until they reached baggage claim.

You: "I have no luggage to claim," Mycroft said, finally breaking the silence. He watched as different-colored suitcases started travelling around the conveyer belt. "Did you bring something?"

Stranger: "Just a smaller bag, nothing large, but it was too much to carry on," Sherlock said, stepping up to the belt and watching down the line.

You: "Dare I ask what's inside it?" Mycroft asked dryly, remembering some experiments Sherlock had taken too much joy in when he was a teenager.

Stranger: A small metal case came around the bend and he picked it off the belt. He turned to Mycroft and smiled. "Later, you may. But I wouldn't here." With that, he started towards the exit.

You: That just sparked all of Mycroft's worries but he let the matter drop. Hopefully the little metal case wouldn't explode on the way to wherever they were going. As they walked out of the airport, Mycroft asked, "So are we finding another flat to stay in this time?"

Stranger: "Already done," Sherlock said, hailing a cab as it passed and watching it come to a stop by the curb. "Better than the last place, but only just. Two stars, three floors, one bedroom rooms. I wouldn't trust the food there either, if I were you."

You: "As long as there's no evolution happening in the kitchen, I'll be fine with it," Mycroft joked and climbed into the cab after Sherlock when one finally stopped. He listened only vaguely to the address Sherlock gave, staring out the window.

Stranger: "Hopefully not here," Sherlock chuckled dryly. He went to looking out his own window as the new town flashed by.

You: The buildings gradually grew more rundown and shabby as the cab drove through the city. Mycroft knew that Moran had rented a flat in the middle-class section of town and, from the looks of it, they were heading to the poorer part of town.

Stranger: Sherlock paid the cabbie as he pulled up to their 'hotel'. Slowly, Sherlock got out and went up to the counter, leaving Mycroft to wait outside, gathering the bags. He came back with a key in his hand and a bitter look on his face.

You: "Something wrong?" Mycroft asked as he gathered up his bag and Sherlock's. He held the metal case gingerly, still worried about what might be inside it.

Stranger: Sherlock took the metal case from Mycroft and handed him the key. "Look at the room number," he huffed, taking another bag from Mycroft and starting back inside.

You: The silver key was emblazoned with 221 in bright blue numbers. Mycroft laughed warmly and walked up to the door. "Perhaps there is a higher power," Mycroft said. "And it's telling you you'll be going back there. Or it's keeping you close to John."

Stranger: "Don't know, but it's kind of annoying," Sherlock huffed again, pressing the elevator button and hearing a frightening jolt. "Uh, stairs?" He asked, looking at Mycroft.

You: "I think stairs might be the better part of surviving," Mycroft nodded, listening to the clanks and groans of the old elevator. He walked to the closest set and went upstairs, finding 221 was very close to the stairway he had chosen.

Stranger: Sherlock followed and stood back as Mycroft unlocked the door. He watched as he opened the door and more than one kind of vermin scurried out of the way.

You: "At least everything here runs," Mycroft commented dryly. "Hopefully we won't be spending too much time here." He walked inside and set the bags down on one of the small beds. He sat down on the other one and eyed the metal case. "Want to share what other toys you brought with?" Mycroft asked, waving a hand at the case.

Stranger: Sherlock set the case down next to Mycroft on the bed and clicked the safety of the case away. "Open it and see for yourself."

You: Mycroft stared at it for a moment longer before opening the clasps and easing the lid open. He tilted his head at the contents and looked back up at Sherlock. "I don't... understand," he admitted. "What is all this?"

Stranger: "There's mostly just extra money in there," Sherlock started, moving to sit on the other bed. "But there are also passports in there for us, legal papers, and under all that, two guns. The paperwork allowing us to have them is in there somewhere. Pick one, try it out."

You: Mycroft let out a relieved breath, happy that there were no explosives or caustic chemicals inside. He lifted out both guns and hefted them, one at a time. He picked the silver gun, the weight feeling more secure in his hand and handed the black one to Sherlock. "When do you want to start?" he asked.

Stranger: "Our search?" Sherlock asked, turning the gun over in his hand and smiling at the feel.

You: "Yes, I'd like to get this over with as soon as safely possible," Mycroft said, placing the gun on the bed. If they were going to be going out to follow Moran, he didn't want to tuck the gun away until after he'd changed.

Stranger: "We'll start tomorrow. It's too late in the evening to do anything worthwhile. He is unlike Srechko, does most of his work in the day. Besides, we need sleep," Sherlock said, laying the gun on the side table between the two beds. "Something you should know about the guns; each only holds one round of eight bullets each. That's all I have at the moment, enough for each gun. So use them wisely."

You: "All right," Mycroft nodded, pulling off his suit jacket and toeing off his shoes. "Though that seems rather small for a handgun clip. Aren't they usually twelve rounds a clip?"

Stranger: "Normally, yes, but again, all I had," Sherlock shrugged sadly. "I couldn't go out and buy new clips. We have to settle for already partly used clips."

You: Mycroft shrugged and laid down on the bed. He hadn't texted Greg yet and was feeling slightly guilty about it. Knowing that he had the whole night free, he smiled and opened his phone, sending a text. Safe and sound in Dublin. No plans for tonight. How about you, love? - MH

Stranger: Just about to leave work. How was the flight? -GL

You: Surprisingly quiet. Rather relaxing as well. How was your day? Chase down any criminals? - MH

Stranger: LOL! No, paperwork, paperwork, and more paperwork. I think the highlight of my day was the papercut I got on page 83. -GL

You: Putting your blood into your work is usually just a saying, love. What are your plans for tonight? - MH

Stranger: It has a more literal meaning now, at least for me. No plans. Go home, heat up something to eat. Miss you. -GL

You: Well, I plan on keeping up for a little while talking. And reheat up that vegetable soup. It was delicious and you'll like it. - MH

Stranger: I think I might do just that, actually. Now that you have me wanting it. -GL

You: Good. It gives me a little possessive thrill to think you're eating something I made. And when I decide to indulge in sentiment, I apparently go all out. - MH

Stranger: I love you so much. You always know how to get me to laugh. -GL

You: I miss hearing that sound. And to think, I've only been gone a few hours. What have you done to me, Greg Lestrade? - MH

Stranger: I don't know. What have you done to me, Mycroft Holmes? It was hard to focus on the paperwork after lunch. All I could do was think about you. -GL

You: Sounds like we're in the same boat then, love. Hope you don't get tired of it. I don't believe I ever will. - MH

Stranger: I never will. But I hate our last names. - GL

You: Why is that? - MH

Stranger: As stupid or cheesy as it sounds, they're different. I hate it. -GL

You: Mycroft read the text several times, his breath catching quietly. Was Greg saying what he thought he was saying? Are you working your way around to proposing to me via text message? - MH

Stranger: Not via text, no. -GL

You: How then? - MH

Stranger: Come home soon and find out. -GL

You: Tease. But I can't wait. I'll be back as soon as I can and I'm going to kiss you breathless. - MH

Stranger: I want that so bad, love. You don't have any idea what you've done to me right now. -GL

You: I have an idea. Several memories are pushing towards the surface at the moment. All of them pleasurable. - MH

Stranger: Damn you, love. Come home so I can get you forever mine! -GL

You: I think you might have just proposed through text, love. And I'm definitely saying yes. - MH

Stranger: Really? -GL

You: What, you doubted I would? Greg, how many times have I told you I love you? I want to spend the rest of my life with you. - MH

Stranger: I'm so happy right now, my love. But still, I want to do it right. Not via text. -GL

You: I'll wait then. Though it's very difficult. I should probably stop texting you for a bit so you can get home. - MH

Stranger: I'm already home, love. -GL

You: You can drive and text? I'm impressed and disturbed. It's rather dangerous to do so. - MH

Stranger: I drove fast... My heart was racing when you figured out what I was planning... -GL

You: Well, I'm glad you're home safe. You were nervous? Were you expecting me to say no? - MH

Stranger: I didn't know what to expect... I hoped you would say yes, but I was also wondering if you thought it was too soon, or that you didn't want to take our relationship that far or you didn't marry or you would laugh... I didn't know... I was too nervous... -GL

You: Oh, Greg, I wish I could hug you right now. I love you and the only laugh you'll hear is one of joy. - MH

Stranger: I'm glad... Though I'll admit, I sweated right through this shirt... I need to go change... -GL

You: You're alone in the house. Why not just take the shirt off and let me imagine you bare-chested? - MH

Stranger: I might... but only since you said yes! I might even send a pic, if you wish. -GL

You: I would love that. It would give me something to think about while I'm away. - MH

Stranger: In fact, give me a minute. I have a special picture for you. -GL Lestrade sent the message then set up his phone on the table so it sat upright. He angled it perfectly and put it on the timer for thirty seconds. He pulled the ring out of his pocket, got down on one knee, took off his shirt, and smiled up at the camera. After the click, he put the picture into a new message to Mycroft. Mycroft Holmes, will you marry me? -GL

You: Mycroft waited with thinly disguised impatience, wondering what Greg was doing. When his phone beeped an incoming image, he opened it and felt his mouth drop open. All he could do was stare at the image, his heart thumping in his chest. When he could type again, he sent back a simple message. Yes. Forever yes. - MH

Stranger: I wish you could see me jump in joy! You made me the happiest man in the world just then! I love you, Mycroft Holmes. My wonderful fiancé! -GL

You: I love you too, Greg Lestrade. Don't change your mind before I get back now. I want to hear the words from your lips. - MH

Stranger: I would never change my mind, my love. No one could take away what I feel for you! <3 -GL

You: Good. Same goes for me. If your stomach is calmed down enough, you should eat something now. Let me know what you think of whatever you try. - MH

Stranger: I will. I think I'm going to have some of that soup you told me about. I'm craving it now. -GL

You: And now I am too. I think I'll make it for us when I come back. That way we can share it. - MH

Stranger: I'd love that so much, babe. Anything we can share, I would love. -GL

You: I'll text you when we're heading back. You can not make plans for the evening. You'll be mine. - MH

Stranger: I hope you text me before then and let me know you're alright... But okay. I love you so much, baby. Night. <3 -GL

You: Of course I will. I meant that I'll make sure you know when I'm coming back. I love you, Greg. Sleep well. - MH

Stranger: Sherlock watched as Mycroft closed his phone, smiling widely. "Why are you so happy?" He asked, sitting up a little better against the back of the bed.

You: "I have something wonderful to look forward to when we get back," Mycroft replied, stretching out across the bed. "Something absolutely wonderful."

Stranger: "Oh?" Sherlock asked, raising his eyebrow at his brother. "And what, may I ask, would that be?"

You: "Greg just proposed," Mycroft said after staring at Sherlock for several moments. "He was going to wait until I got back but I figured out what he was planning." Mycroft smiled again, remembering the photo Greg had sent.

Stranger: "He proposed to you?" Sherlock asked, slightly shocked. "Congratulations."

You: "Thanks, Sherlock," Mycroft said happily. He was a bit surprised that Sherlock wasn't snarking at him but his younger brother had changed greatly. Especially since meeting John.

Stranger: "I'm sure you guys will be happy together," Sherlock continued, laying down into the pillows and closing his eyes, yawning deeply.

You: "I think so too," Mycroft replied, closing his own eyes. "I'm surprised that you aren't saying something sarcastic or anything right now, though, Sherlock."

Stranger: "Well, you seem happy... and I know how much Lestrade means to you. I wouldn't want you laughing if I was proposing to John, so... remember that," Sherlock smiled into the dark.

You: "I won't laugh," Mycroft promised. "Though I may give a happy laugh if and when he says yes." Mycroft wondered what John would do when Sherlock walked back into 221B and decided the ex-soldier would probably touch Sherlock to make sure he was real then probably punch him.

Stranger: Sherlock sat back into the pillows with a heavy sigh. He decided he would get some sleep, the thought of John the first and only thing on his mind.

You: Mycroft kept silent as he thought about the picture and what he was going to do when he got back home. He slowly fell asleep, thoughts of Greg and their future together tumbling through his mind.

Stranger: Lestrade sat back in his chair and rested his feet on the hard wood desk top of his desk. Five minutes until lunch, and about time too! All this paperwork was really starting to annoy him. But nothing could get him upset today, not even the mounds of paperwork on his desk, for Mycroft was now his fiancé! Or soon would be.

You: John took a break from his writing to make a quick lunch. He sat down with a bowl of soup and a cup of tea and flicked on the TV. Some talk show came on and John ate slowly while the sound filled the flat.

Stranger: Lestrade heated up his microwave lunch of some leftover soup Mycroft had made. He took his phone out of his pocket as he sat as his desk, waiting for the ding. Hey, John. I was going to wait to tell you, but I'm too happy/excited! -GL

You: John had finished his soup when his phone beeped a text. He smiled when he saw it was from Lestrade and texted back. I'm always happy to hear good news. What's going on? - JW

Stranger: I just proposed to Mycroft and he said yes!! -GL

You: Congratulations, Greg! That's amazing. - JW

Stranger: Thanks. I'm so happy right now, words can't describe what I'm feeling! -GL

You: That's just wonderful. How did you propose? - JW

Stranger: A picture and text. -GL

You: Really? Seems a little, I don't know, impersonal? Still I'm happy for you guys. - JW

Stranger: Well, I'll propose again when he gets home, obviously. -GL

You: Let me guess: he figured it out before you could get the words out? - JW

Stranger: Kind of, yes. All I said was that I hated our last names were different. -GL

You: It always amazes me how he's able to put everything together from the smallest of clues. I think it ran in the family. - JW

Stranger: Yep, at least being an arrogant bastard didn't. -GL

You: He wasn't always an arrogant bastard. Just most of the time. - JW

Stranger: He was whenever I saw him. So to me, he was all the time. -GL

You: I'm sorry about that. I kind of wish the world could have seen him at 4 in the morning playing his violin. Or the smile he'd get on his face when some experiment or other went well. But then I think that I'm the only one who got to see that and I want to keep it mine. - JW

Stranger: I can understand that. They are good memories to keep. -GL

You: Yes they are. So want to celebrate tonight? I've got nothing planned. - JW

Stranger: Sounds amazing. -GL

You: All right. You want to head to the pub or something? Your celebration, you choose. - JW

Stranger: Pub sounds good. Shall I pick you up in about... five hours? -GL

You: Sure. Can you give me a call before you head over? I'm going to be writing and probably be completely absorbed by it. - JW

Stranger: Course. See you in a while. -GL

You: See you soon, Greg. And congrats again. - JW

Stranger: Thanks -GL

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You: Mycroft felt his shoulder being shaken and snapped awake. He stared up at Sherlock's face, momentarily confused about where he was. When his mind focused on the present, he nodded to Sherlock and said, "I'm awake."

Stranger: Sherlock stepped back and sat down on his bed. He watched as Mycroft sat up. "Have a good sleep?" He asked, reaching down to tie his shoes.

You: "I did, yes," Mycroft replied, stretching. He felt a grin steal over his face as he remembered that Greg had proposed last night. "How about you?"

Stranger: "Fine," Sherlock shrugged, standing and scanning his eyes over Mycroft. "You better get ready. Remember, normal clothes today. Can't stand out."

You: "That's why I only have one suit with me," Mycroft said, arching an eyebrow at Sherlock. He stood from the bed and grabbed his duffel bag, pulling out a pair of ratty jeans and a hoodie. He walked into the bathroom to change and brush his teeth.

Stranger: "How are you feeling? After last night, I mean," Sherlock called through the door, organizing things in his own bag.

You: "Happy," Mycroft replied honestly after he had finished brushing his teeth. "Greg is everything I want and I want to spend the rest of my life with him."

Stranger: "I'm glad you're happy now," Sherlock called back, going back to lay on his bed as he waited. He folded his arms under his head and stared up at the ceiling.

You: "Thank you, Sherlock," Mycroft said, opening the door and walking out. He folded his suit carefully and placed it inside his duffel bag. "So, following Moran today?"

Stranger: "That's the plan," Sherlock said, sitting up and trying to shake the image of John that had planted in his mind.

You: "Do you have any contacts here?" Mycroft asked curiously. "From what I know of your cases, you haven't spent much time in Dublin."

Stranger: "I don't, sadly," Sherlock shook his head, standing and straightening his clothes. "I only have connections in London, for the most part."

You: "Then I suppose we'll have to do this the hard way," Mycroft mused. He pulled out his phone and got the address of Moran's flat from the texts. He wrote it down on a piece of paper so he didn't have to pull his phone out again once they were following Moran.

Stranger: "Do you know where his flat is according to where we are now?" Sherlock asked, pacing across the room to where his brother was jotting down the address. "I don't know much about Dublin."

You: "Not off the top of my head," Mycroft said, pulling up a map of Dublin on his phone. He typed in the hotel's address and the flat's and saw that it was about a mile away. He showed the map to Sherlock, letting his brother memorize the streets.

Stranger: "Ok, I think I got it," Sherlock said, stepping away and heading to a beaten up backpack on his bed. He flung it over one shoulder and turned to Mycroft. "Ready?"

You: "After you," Mycroft said, smiling again as he gestured towards the door. He followed Sherlock out into the watery morning sunlight and blinked until he was used to it.

Stranger: "You have your gun?" Sherlock said quietly, stepping into time with Mycroft by his side.

You: "Yes," Mycroft said, patting the cold weight at the base of his spine. It nestled rather comfortably in the small of his back and he understood now why John and Greg carried theirs all the time.

Stranger: "Good, now, mess up your hair a little. It looks too neat to be that of a homeless person," Sherlock said, nudging Mycroft's shoulder.

You: Mycroft ran his fingers through his hair a few times, causing bits to stick up in spikes. He looked questioningly at Sherlock when he was done and avoided the temptation to slick his hair back down.

Stranger: "Better," Sherlock nodded, looking at his hair only for a moment before looking back ahead of them. He ducked into an alley way and started along the twisted street.

You: Mycroft followed quickly behind, looking about to make sure no one was following them. Though no one knew them here, he wanted to make sure nothing at all happened to impede their mission *little do they know, the authors are gonna moftiss them :D*

Stranger: Sherlock quickened the pace, dodging trash heaps easily and soon made it to the other side of the alleyway, he moved down the new street quickly.

You: Mycroft was panting slightly by the time they made it to the alley behind the flat Moran had rented. He rested against the wall as Sherlock looked around, catching his breath. "We're here. How do we check to see if he's home? Moran was smarter than Gary, he has a third floor flat."

Stranger: "I guess we should just wait around, no use risking our lives again when we're already doing so," Sherlock said, moving back over to Mycroft and standing in front of him. "You good?"

You: "Yeah, I am," Mycroft replied, his breath slowing. He'd been mostly sedentary since going after Srechko and walking a mile quickly was a little difficult. "Is there anyone we can use to help us with this?"

Stranger: "Not unless you have connections here," Sherlock said, placing his hand to his gun to make sure it was still holding.

You: "No I don't," Mycroft sighed. "At least not at a level that's going to help us right now." He checked his gun as well and was satisfied to find it still snugged against his back. "Waiting is our only option for now."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded, "Sounds like the best..."

You: Mycroft kept quiet after that, watching the doorway carefully. He had memorized the military picture of Moran so he was fairly certain he'd recognize the man if he showed. Every time the door opened, Mycroft tensed and hoped.

Stranger: Sherlock set the backpack down on the ground after an hour of holding it. He leaned against the wall and sighed. Was this man never coming out?

You: Finally, after about an hour, a man eased his way out of the door. His hair had grown, feathering at his ears. He had also dyed it brown but Mycroft could recognize Sebastian Moran still. He nudged Sherlock and pointed with his chin.

Stranger: "That him? You sure?" Sherlock breathed, making sure it wasn't obvious he was staring.

You: "Yes I am," Mycroft hissed, annoyed that Sherlock was doubting him. "You saw the pictures too. That's him."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded, waited for Moran to just disappear behind a corner, then nodded for Mycroft to follow him. Quietly, he picked up his backpack and started moving.

You: Mycroft followed as silently as he could, thankful he had decided to leave his duffel behind. He wasn't sure if he could be quiet while worrying about carrying it. They tailed Moran until the sniper stopped at a cafe.

Stranger: Sherlock shoved Mycroft quickly into an alleyway by the cafe Moran just entered. He peaked around the corner and watched as Moran came out with a coffee, sitting at a table.

You: "Wonder if he does this often," Mycroft murmured as they watched the unassuming man. Mycroft was strongly reminded of John and wondered if Sherlock thought the same thing.

Stranger: Sherlock glared at the man. His pose, drinking his coffee and just watching, it all reminded him so much of John, and he hated it. "You have no idea how much I just want to shoot him now," Sherlock breathed, pulling back into the alley to look at Mycroft angrily.

You: "I can see it in your eyes," Mycroft observed softly. "But shooting him right now, as satisfying for you as that might be, is not the best plan. We need to keep watching him and look for a better opportunity."

Stranger: "I know," Sherlock growled, rolling his eyes and going back to watching Moran. "But by just a slip of the hand..."

You: "And it will get done," Mycroft said confidently, also turning to stare at the sniper. "But you can't be caught. It has to look like an accident or like someone completely different did it."

Stranger: "I know..." Sherlock sighed angrily. "Any idea on how yet?"

You: "No, not really," Mycroft replied, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt. "We need to study him a bit more, his habits. Do something that will fit with what he already does."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and watched Moran polish off his coffee, tossing the empty cup into a nearby bin. He stood, and Sherlock ducked back into the alley, leaning up against the wall.

You: Moran walked back towards his flat but stopped on the sidewalk about halfway there. He looked around quickly and then turned down an alleyway, his sure strides carrying him quickly down the pavement.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded down after him and watched as Mycroft followed quickly, both of them staying in the shadows. Sherlock made sure he was in front of Mycroft at all times, knowing if something was to happen, he needed to protect him, no matter what.

You: Moran stopped in front of an old metal door and rapped on it three times quickly then three times slowly. The door creaked open, showing a disheveled kid with dreadlocks and tired eyes. He muttered something to Moran to which the sniper replied, "Forest green" and was allowed into the doorway.

Stranger: Sherlock turned to Mycroft and raised an eyebrow. "Should we follow?" He asked in a hush.

You: "Maybe," Mycroft replied, staring hard at the door. "We need to know what he's doing but what's going on in there? What if he suspects us of following him?"

Stranger: "Look, I'll go. You stay out here okay?" Sherlock said, moving Mycroft deeper into the shadows. "Same rules as last time. No following me, no matter what you hear. You turn, and leave."

You: "That's not a good idea," Mycroft argued, stopping Sherlock with one hand on his arm. "What if you need help? Splitting up can't be the only plan right now."

Stranger: "Well, I'm not risking you getting hurt. One of us needs to stay out here in case he comes out, anyway," Sherlock said, using his you're-not-changing-my-mind glare.

You: Mycroft glared back and then sighed. "Fine, I'll stay out here," he finally said. "But if he comes out and you don't follow, I'm still following him."

Stranger: "That's what I would want you to do. And remember, no matter what you hear, you don't come in after me," Sherlock said, placing a firm hand on his brother's shoulder.

You: "Be careful," Mycroft said and pushed himself further back into the shadows. He nodded to Sherlock and watched as his brother knocked on the metal door in the same pattern.

Stranger: The kid opened the door and asked for a password. "Forest green," Sherlock growled and the kid opened the door to him. He stepped inside and the smell of smoke hit him dead in the face. He looked around at the many tables that were set up in the darkened room as his eyes adjusted. The kid was next to him again. "Spot for you over there. Go on up to the counter and get what you need."

You: Moran was sitting at the counter and smoking easily. The smoke wreathed his head, giving him a transitory halo before the fans whirling above sucked it away. He looked idly around the room, noting the newcomer and immediately assessing him. Determining that he was no threat at the moment, Moran went back to smoking.

Stranger: Sherlock went up to the counter and looked up at the machine that held all the smokes in different scents. He sat down and the bartender came up to him, asking which he wanted and handing him the tube. Sherlock picked an apple one and put the tube in his mouth as the man went over to connect it.

You: Moran sat for several minutes, slowly enjoying the flavored smoke that drifted into his mouth. His favorite flavor was mint and it was cold against his tongue. When the tobacco was gone, he sighed and stood from the chair. It was time to head back to his flat and plan how to replace the snipers that had died.

Stranger: Sherlock watched the man leave, lingering for a while after as to not to drag attention. Why did he have to sit right near the guy? He let out another cloud of smoke and hoped Mycroft would be careful.

You: Mycroft stood straight as the door opened and he saw Moran slip out. He held his breath as the sniper walked near him and out to the alleyway. He waited a few moments to see if Sherlock would follow then ghosted after Moran. They couldn't lose him, not now.

Stranger: Sherlock sat there for another ten minutes, watching the smoke slowly empty. As soon as it was done, he stood, left the money, and started to go for the exit. He was stopped by a hand on his shoulder and he turned to find a man towering over him.

You: Moran made his way back to the flat, some sixth sense causing the hairs on the back of his neck to stand up. He'd always had these feelings and they came in very handy in the military. They made it almost impossible to sneak up on him and he could tell that something was following him now.

Stranger: "Why is scum like you 'ere?" The man sneered, looking Sherlock over and crossing his arms. The man was huge and fat, making Sherlock feel a little too small. He still stood his ground and growled, "Having a smoke, what's it to you?"

You: Mycroft followed a good distance behind, trying to keep his steps light and look as if he was just a homeless guy looking for somewhere to hang out. He could tell that Moran suspected something: his shoulders were thrown back, his steps military-precise, and his eyes swivelled in every direction.

Stranger: The man stood closer to Sherlock, forcing his to take a few steps back. "This place ain't for scum 'ike you. You ain't welcome 'ere." Sherlock sneered up at the man with the horrible Irish accent. "And why not?" He growled, shoving his hands into the pockets of his jeans.

You: Moran headed up into his flat and went to the window to look out onto the street. He saw a tall man with messy hair and a paint-splattered shirt walking past the building. As he watched, the man lounged back against the wall of the building next door and idly scanned the street. Moran narrowed his eyes at him and wondered if that's who his senses were warning him about.

Stranger: Sherlock grunted as he was picked up by the collar of his shirt and shoved back into the wall near him. His hands automatically went up to the hands holding him, trying to pry them loose. "You're dirt, you are not welcome 'ere," The man repeated, shoving Sherlock harder into the wall.

You: Mycroft stood with his back against the wall, fighting the desire to take out his phone and text Sherlock. He was worried about his little brother, wondering what was taking him so long to show up. But he did nothing but stand, hoping that Sherlock was alright and he wouldn't have to follow Moran anywhere else.

Stranger: Sherlock hit the ground hard where he was thrown and he heard a clatter pass his head. He looked up in time to see a man, just as big as the one roughing him up, pick up his gun. He winced inside and watched as the two big men talked over it.

You: Moran decided to follow his instincts and leave. He had a few other safe houses set up and there was no way he was staying here right now. Even before the military, he'd always travelled light, so it was the work of about 20 minutes to pack up his possessions in the flat. Using his laptop, Moran booked a flight to Dubai then packed it away.

Stranger: "'here you get this, scum?" The big man asked, shaking the gun in front of Sherlock. "This is a right expensive gun you got 'ere. I think I'll just take it off your hands. Make it payment for you to 'eave."

You: Moran took one last look around the flat, making sure he was leaving nothing behind. He closed the door and locked it, dropping the key in the landlord's mailbox. He headed outside and decided to walk to the airport. It was relatively close by.

Stranger: "Give it back," Sherlock growled, standing and facing the man with his gun. "Or else..." The large man laughed. "Or else what 'here? You're a small homeless 'iece of scum. I can break you with one hand, I can."

You:Mycroft groaned quietly when he saw Moran leave the flat with a large, olive green duffel on his back. He could tell that the man wasn't planning on coming back. He didn't know what had spooked him but Mycroft knew he had to follow.

Stranger: Sherlock ran at the man and threw his fist at him. It hit the man right in the jaw but only caused him to sway a little. Sherlock hit the ground as one of the man's huge fists collided with his left eye, likely going to be leaving a mark.

You: Mycroft was getting tired quickly, following after Moran. The man set a bruising pace and didn't waver, heading to his destination without a second thought. Mycroft slowed down a little bit to surreptitiously pull out his phone and check the map again. "The airport, damn it," he muttered to himself.

Stranger: Sherlock sat up and watched through his one good eye as the man turned to leave, laughing loudly. His back was to Sherlock. Now was his chance. He stood and jumped on the man's back, wrapping his arms around the man's neck. "My. Gun," Sherlock growled as the man began to choke.

You: Moran caught a reflection in the windows he was passing by and scowled when he saw it was the same man who had stood outside his flat. He tried to figure out what the man was holding but the reflections weren't good enough for that. Shaking his head, Moran decided to hail a cab and stepped to the curb to raise his arm.

Stranger: The man, and Sherlock, fell to the floor hard. The gun skidded away across the ground and Sherlock let the man go, listening to him gasp as he got up, took his gun, and put it back in it's spot. He glared down at the man, spit in somewhere near him, and, with his head high, left the club.

You: A cab slowed down and stopped next to Moran and Mycroft cursed silently. He kept walking and passed the sniper, his head down. Moran stepped into the cab and it pulled off. Once it was out of sight, Mycroft sighed and started running. He had to get to the airport to get an idea of where Moran was going.

Stranger: Sherlock looked around the flat as soon as he got there. There was no sign of Moran or of Mycroft, which worried him. He ran the mile back to their hotel and went to their room. "Mycroft?" He asked loudly as he entered the room. No answer. He cursed loudly and went back outside, looking around, then pulled out his cell phone. Where are you? -SH

You: Running after Moran. Something spooked him and he bolted. Where are you? - MH

Stranger: At the hotel. He's leaving? -SH

You: Yes. Packed up all his stuff and he's going to airport. Talk later, running now. - MH

Stranger: Sherlock put his phone back in his pocket and slipped back into the hotel room. He was worried about his brother, chasing after Moran alone, but he felt proud of him at the same time.

You: Mycroft made it to the airport not long after the cab. He saw Moran through the glass doors and took a moment to slick his hair back down. After making himself as presentable as possible, Mycroft waited until Moran moved to the counter and headed in. He drifted as close as possible and heard the word Dubai before leaving. He didn't want to press his luck.

Stranger: Sherlock paced the room, his phone in hand. Was Mycroft alright? Was he safe? He ran a hand through his hair and sighed loudly.

You: Dubai. Moran's heading to Dubai though no guarantee he's going to stop there. - MH

Stranger: Where are you? Are you alright? -SH

You: Outside the airport and I'm fine. I only got close enough to hear the word and then left. Headed back now. - MH

Stranger: Good. Hurry back. -SH

You: I don't have my wallet on me. Do you have money so I can take a cab back? - MH

Stranger: Yes, text me when you are almost here and I'll come out and pay. You did good, Mycroft. -SH

You: Thank you, little brother. I'll see you soon. - MH. With that, Mycroft pocketed his phone safely again and waved down a cab. He gave the address of the hotel and sat back while the driver navigated the streets to bring him safely to the building.

Stranger: Sherlock read the text Mycroft had sent him saying he was almost back. He took his wallet and went to meet the cab by the front of the hotel, smiling as he watched his brother climb out of the cab.

You: Mycroft waved Sherlock over and watched as his brother handed over a few notes. He walked up to the hotel and inside, flopping down tiredly on the bed. "I hate running," he remarked when Sherlock came back in.

Stranger: Sherlock laughed and threw his wallet on the table. "Yes, but you did great. You got what we needed to know."

You: "I did, didn't I?" Mycroft said, allowing himself a moment to contemplate it. He smiled then the look faded as he thought to the future. "Do we follow him?" he asked.

Stranger: Sherlock shrugged. "We have to. Why do you ask?"

You: "Just verifying your plans," Mycroft said. He stood up and grabbed his suit out of the duffel. It was only slightly wrinkled and he shook it to get rid of the worst of it. "Let me change and we'll head to the airport," Mycroft said, moving towards the bathroom.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and watched his brother head into the bathroom. He went and sat on the bed, leaning back until he was staring at the ceiling. He let the thoughts of John circle his mind again. What if he was too late? What if Moran figured out what was happening and went after John? What if Sherlock couldn't save him?

You: Mycroft changed quickly, moving his cellphone back to his suit pocket. He folded his clothes and then walked out of the bathroom, placing them in the duffel. "You ready to go?" he asked, noting the serious expression on Sherlock's face. "You ok?"

Stranger: "Fine," Sherlock said, sitting up and forcing all the thoughts back into the shadows of his mind. "Let me just change and we can go."

You: "All right," Mycroft nodded, letting Sherlock drop the subject. He knew Sherlock could only be thinking of John and decided to let it be. They'd discussed it so completely, he could almost relate the conversation they would have word for word.

Stranger: Sherlock stood and retrieved his suit and slipped into the bathroom to put it on. He undressed and put the clothes on, looking in the mirror and fixing the folds that appeared. He folded his clothes and stepped out of the bathroom, moving over to place them in his bag.

You: "Let's go then," Mycroft said when Sherlock had finished packing his bag. He grabbed the key and brought it out to the main desk, checking out of their room. He walked back outside to stand near Sherlock, watching the traffic flow by.

Stranger: "We all set?" Sherlock asked, flagging down a passing taxi.

You: "Yes we are," Mycroft said as the cab came to a stop in front of them. He waited until Sherlock got in then followed. He gave the cabby the name of the airport and sat back, waiting out the ride in silence.

Stranger: Sherlock watched out the window as the town passed. The trip wasn't long, but as always, it couldn't go fast enough. He got out before the cab came to a complete stop, went through the doors, and waited for Mycroft.

You: Mycroft stepped out of the car and walked quickly into the airport. He didn't want to take the same plane to Dubai as Moran and negotiated two seats on the plane right after. It left in three hours which left plenty of time to sit and wonder how they were going to get close to the sniper.

Stranger: Sherlock quickly made his way to security and went through. After he collected his things and put his shoes back on, he waited for Mycroft.

You: Mycroft made his way through security and put his shoes on. He was getting rather tired of airports. "We have two and a half hours until boarding," he told Sherlock. "Might as well grab something to eat."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded, "I agree. Where do you want to eat? What do you want?"

You: "I don't know," Mycroft said, sounding thoughtful. "How about we head over to the food court area and look around?" He doesn't wait for Sherlock to answer, just starts walking through the terminal.

Stranger: Sherlock stood and followed after Mycroft. He caught up and fell into pace next to him. He touched his left eye, glad Mycroft hadn't noted it yet, as it felt sore and tender. It was definitely going to be black and blue soon.

You: Mycroft smiled as he saw the different choices in the food court. He decided to treat himself to a small slice of cake along with a chicken salad.

Stranger: Sherlock sat down with a sandwich and a small soda, smiling as Mycroft sat down with his food. "Looks good," Sherlock said, picking up his sandwich and taking a big bite of it.

You: "Yes," Mycroft agreed, not wanting to get into an argument right now. He ate with quick, economical movements and soon was finished with his salad. The cake was next and Mycroft lingered over it, enjoying the sweet taste on his tongue.

Stranger: Sherlock finished his sandwich and leaned back in his chair, drinking from his soda. He watched the people going by, and watched Mycroft enjoy his cake out of the corner of his eye. He smirked into his cup, glad Mycroft had treated himself and knowing he deserved it.

You: Mycroft ate the last bite of his cake, licking the frosting out of the tines of the fork. Out of all foods, cake was his one weakness. Something that Greg had yet to figure out or Mycroft was sure he'd be getting little cupcakes all the time. "Ready to wait some more?" he asked dryly, looking up at Sherlock.

Stranger: Sherlock turned his attention back to him and smirked. He brushed his thumb over the corner of his own mouth, raising his eyebrows at Mycroft in a hint.

You: Mycroft took his napkin and wiped his mouth, a faint flush rising on his face. He was usually extremely neat when eating. He gathered his trash together and stood to throw it out.

Stranger: Sherlock clapped a hand on Mycroft's shoulder, chuckling at the blush. "I'm sure Lestrade would love to see you blushing like this," He teased, squeezing his shoulder playfully.

You: "He has seen me blushing," Mycroft said playfully. "Just not necessarily for this reason."

Stranger: "Yes, yes, you two are adoooooorable. Don't worry," He laughed, leading the way to their gate. "I'm shocked you haven't text him yet."

You: Mycroft started at that and waited until they had settled down in the uncomfortable chairs near their gate to pull out his phone. Change of plans. Heading to Dubai to follow Moran. Hope to be home soon love. - MH

Stranger: Dubai?! Babe, what happened? -GL

You: He seemed to sense something off and left. I don't think he recognized us though. - MH

Stranger: Are you both alright? No one hurt so far? Especially my handsome fiancé! I love being able to say that! -GL

You: No, no one's hurt. Well, Sherlock looks like he got punched but I'm ignoring that at the moment. - MH

Stranger: Well, I guess worse could have happened... -GL

You: Yes. With any luck, we'll catch Moran in Dubai and be back within a day or so. I love you, Greg. - MH

Stranger: I love you too, Mycroft. Bed isn't the same without you. -GL

You: You shouldn't mention a bed. Now all I can think about is getting you in one. Which I'm planning on doing as soon as I get back. - MH

Stranger: I can't wait. It's hard to sleep without you here. -GL

You: Same for me when I have to sleep. I like hearing you breathing beside me. Have I mentioned how happy I am you decided to move in with me? - MH

Stranger: I don't think you have, love. ;) -GL

You: Well, I am. And the proposal was just the icing on the cake, love. Though they're calling for my plane. I'll text you when I land. - MH

Stranger: Alright, my love. I'll talk to you in a few hours. I love you so much. Have a safe flight. -GL

You: Thanks, love you too. - MH. Mycroft put his phone away with a sigh and picked up his duffel bag. He stood and followed Sherlock to the gate and waited with the rest of the crowd to board the plane.

Stranger: Sherlock handed Mycroft his ticket as they stepped up to the counter. After having both their tickets scanned and being waved onto the plane, they moved along the aisle to find their seats in the very back of the plane. Sherlock sat next to the window and shoved his bag under the seat, watching Mycroft do the same and sit next to him.

You: "He's smart," Mycroft commented, continuing their previous conversation about Moran. "He's probably not going to stay in Dubai." Before the plane's door closed, he pulled out his phone to send a quick text to Anthea instructing her to follow Moran as well as she could.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and leaned back in his seat. He watched as the plane took off and waited until the plane's captain told them they could use their electronic devices. He pulled out his laptop and loaded it up, paying for the wifi and connecting to his email, searching for the one forwarded to him from Lestrade.

You: "What are you doing?" Mycroft asked curiously, staring at the screen. He saw several emails from John and wondered how long the doctor had emailed Sherlock before giving up.

Stranger: "I was going to start reading John's novel. Lestrade forwarded it to me after you guys left and I never bothered to open it," Sherlock said, double clicking the email and downloading the document. "I miss him and thought maybe reading something he wrote will help with the pain..."

You: "Mind if I read over your shoulder? I'm curious about this novel as well," Mycroft said, edging closer to the laptop. "John tends to hunch over his laptop when he writes as if he expects someone to come along and steal his work."

Stranger: Sherlock laughed, remembering how he had done that back when he updated his blog. "I don't mind. I'll set it on the tray so we can both read it," Sherlock said, releasing the tray and setting the computer down closer between them.

You: Mycroft nodded his thanks and started reading, tapping the computer in a silent signal when he was ready for Sherlock to scroll down. He was absolutely enthralled within the first ten pages and read avidly.

Stranger: Sherlock read the work quickly, but still taking in every coma. He was breath-taken on how he made the character seem so real. How in depth he went in the cases. He smiled to himself knowing John was doing this based after him, and knowing just how much heart John put into even the smallest thing he still had left of him.

You: Mycroft chuckled quietly at certain lines, recognizing Sherlock instantly in Gabriel Tollen. There was just enough of what had actually happened in the story to make the science-fiction plotline believable and Mycroft developed a whole new appreciation for the varied levels of John Watson.

Stranger: Sherlock waited for Mycroft to let him scroll down, reading over the last couple lines quickly. There was heated tension between Gabriel and his assistant, Cassie. He raised an eyebrow, realizing just how much Cassie sounded like John actually did in part, aside from the sex change in the context.

You: "He's written you two," Mycroft murmured, smiling a bit at the character of Cassie. "Set in the future, but I bet this is how he saw you."

Stranger: "You believe he saw himself as a girl?" Sherlock joked, scrolling down and reading more as Cassie's character pressed against Gabriel against the wall and kissed him.

You: "No," Mycroft said dryly as he read the next lines. "But I believe he loved you and wanted you. Even if he never admitted it to himself."

Stranger: Sherlock could only nod as his voice caught in his throat. The characters had proceeded to strip each other and Sherlock could only picture John stripping in front of him. He shifted uncomfortably as heat rushed down to his soon-to-be erection.

You: "Perhaps... I'll finish reading this another time," Mycroft said delicately, noting the fidgeting in his little brother. Mycroft turned away and studied the other passengers on the plane to pass the rest of the flight.

Stranger: Sherlock blushed and adjusted quickly, moving to close the document but stopping. He was going to let a little thought keep him from reading something John wrote? He shook himself from the image and continued reading, pausing every once in awhile to adjust.

You: Mycroft ignored Sherlock as he continued to read, content to deduce as much as he could from the passengers. The novel seemed almost too personal for him to read, knowing John and Sherlock as he did.

Stranger: Sherlock read as long as he could before they made the call to store all electronic devices, getting up to chapter five. He was shocked how great it was and how great of a writer John was. His John.

You: Mycroft looked out the window as the plane descended to the ground. The sun was high in the sky over Dubai and glittered on the water. The plane taxied slowly up to the terminal and disgorged its passengers.

Stranger: Sherlock went slowly as they made their way to baggage claim, his mind focused back home with John. He paused at the belt and looked at Mycroft.

You: "What?" Mycroft asked, hefting his duffel bag. He rather enjoyed travelling lightly. It wasn't something he did often.

Stranger: Sherlock shrugged and waited for the guns to come around in their case. They were the last ones to leave it seemed when the box finally came around and he was able to pluck it off the belt.

You: Mycroft heard his phone ringing from his pocket and pulled it out. He recognized the number as Anthea's personal phone and answered it quickly. "You have news?" he asked without preamble.

Stranger: "Yes, sir. We just got a swipe of Moran's card down at a market a few blocks from where you guys are," Anthea said quickly, obviously sounding like she was reading off something.

You: "Where exactly?" Mycroft asked, his voice sharp. He could see Sherlock staring at him with interest and waved off any questions.

Stranger: "I'll send you the location if you wish, sir," She said as tapping was heard in the background.

You: "Yes, please," Mycroft said. "I don't want to lose him. Thank you, Anthea." He hung up the phone and grinned when it beeped an incoming text message. He showed the address to Sherlock then started walking out of the terminal.

Stranger: Sherlock unlocked the case and handed Mycroft a gun, sticking his own the in band off his pants. "We have to change," Sherlock said, pushing Mycroft towards a bathroom right by the exit.

You: "Fine," Mycroft growled, patience leaving him as he thought of how close Moran was. And if he was twitchy, how annoyed must Sherlock be? He ducked into the bathroom and pulled out a change of clothes, changing as quickly as he could.

Stranger: Sherlock changed quickly and stepped out of the bathroom, adjusting the gun at the small of his back. He waited for Mycroft, tying the box off to his backpack so he wouldn't have to hold it while dealing with Moran.

You: Mycroft slipped the gun into the small of his back and stepped out of the stall. He glanced at Sherlock and a feral grin slipped over his face. "Ready to hunt?" he asked.

Stranger: "Let's go," Sherlock grinned, standing as well and slipping his backpack tightly over his shoulders. He followed Mycroft out of the airport.

You: Mycroft stalked through the streets, his head swivelling around trying to spot Moran. He led the way to an old coffee shop nestled in between a clothing store and butcher.

Stranger: Sherlock followed close on his heels, ready to jump at any sign of danger. He followed Mycroft quickly into the coffee shop and raised an eyebrow at Mycroft.

You: "He was here," Mycroft murmured as they looked around the small shop. The barista looked at them, confused, then shrugged and went back to cleaning the machines. Mycroft moved further into the shop and heard a door from the back open. Moran came out, stared hard at Mycroft, then bolted out the back door.

Stranger: Sherlock took off after him at once, not even bothering to see if Mycroft was following. He slammed through the back door and darted around the corner, following him down an alleyway.

You: Mycroft ran after, but he wasn't as fast as Moran or Sherlock. He panted as he raced after them, dodging fruit carts and other shoppers.

Stranger: Moran bolted into another alleyway and Sherlock soon followed. Deep into the twists of the alleys, Moran stopped at a dead end, turning to sneer at Sherlock.

You: "Who are you?" Moran asked, glaring at the man following him. He could almost place the face but something wasn't quite right about him. "Why are you following me?"

Stranger: Sherlock smirked and listened to Mycroft turn the corner and stop, panting heavily. "You have no need to know who we are," Sherlock answered coolly. "It's none of your concern."

You: Mycroft stopped short as he saw Moran cornered in the alley by Sherlock. He caught his breath then walked forward to stand behind his brother.

Stranger: Sherlock took another step towards Moran. "Can't get away now, can you?" Sherlock smirked, feeling Mycroft behind him.

You: "You have no idea who you're dealing with," Moran snapped. "Why are you following me? I saw him in Dublin." Moran pointed at Mycroft and glared at him.

Stranger: Sherlock shot Mycroft a look over his shoulder. "I believe, though, I do know who I am dealing with, you see," Sherlock said, turning back to Moran.

You: "I don't think so," Moran said calmly. He pulled out a small handgun, aimed it at Sherlock, and squeezed off two rounds as he darted to the dumpster against the near wall. He leaped up onto it and pulled himself onto the roof, tossing a satisfied smirk over his shoulder.

Stranger: Sherlock fell to the ground as one shot hit his upper leg, and one in his shoulder. He clutched at the one in his shoulder and ground his teeth, looking up at Mycroft. "Go... After.... Him..." He hissed, watching as Mycroft just stood there.

You: "No, not going to happen," Mycroft said, shaking his head. He dug out his cell to call an ambulance then used his shirt to try to staunch the blood leaking from the wounds.

Stranger: "I'm fine... Get him..." Sherlock flinched as pressure was added to the pain. He shifted uncomfortably and squeezed his eyes closed.

You: "No, you're not," Mycroft argued. "I don't know where the bullet in your thigh hit. If you're unlucky, it may have nicked or even hit your femoral artery."

Stranger: "Bad?" Sherlock asked, unable to think clearly enough to remember for himself. His whole mind was focused on the pain.

You: "If you're asking, then yes," Mycroft said, shooting a worried glance at Sherlock's face. The detective was very pale and the puddle of blood was growing beneath them. He breathed a small sigh of relief when sirens sounded, getting closer.

Stranger: Sherlock closed his eyes and muttered, "Mycroft, I'm tired..." Slowly feeling himself drift towards sleep.

You: "You can't sleep, Sherlock, keep your eyes open!" Mycroft yelled as he heard footsteps pounding down the alleyway. "Come on, keep talking. Recite the periodic table for me!"

Stranger: "Bad?" Sherlock asked, unable to think clearly enough to remember for himself. His whole mind was focused on the pain.

You: "If you're asking, then yes," Mycroft said, shooting a worried glance at Sherlock's face. The detective was very pale and the puddle of blood was growing beneath them. He breathed a small sigh of relief when sirens sounded, getting closer.

Stranger: Sherlock closed his eyes and muttered, "Mycroft, I'm tired..." Slowly feeling himself drift towards sleep.

You: "You can't sleep, Sherlock, keep your eyes open!" Mycroft yelled as he heard footsteps pounding down the alleyway. "Come on, keep talking. Recite the periodic table for me!"

Stranger: "H-Hydrogen..." Sherlock struggled out in barely a whisper. "H-Helium..."

You: "Come on, keep going," Mycroft said, his voice stiff with apprehension. A gentle hand pushed him out of the way and pulled the shirt off of the wound on Sherlock's leg. He backed up and sank down to his haunches against the alley wall, watching the paramedics work to stabilize Sherlock.

Stranger: Sherlock saw the blurs of faces above him, unable to recognize any of them. His eyes drooped shut as people surrounded him, barking orders and doing things to his body that his mind couldn't make sense of. "J-John..." He heard himself mutter, breathing becoming harder. "J-J-John..." Then, he blacked out.

You: "Oh, you poor man," Mycroft murmured quietly, tears finally falling down his face. He was fairly certain that Sherlock would survive this, but there was always that small chance, the hitch in the universe termed Murphy's Law. And the fact that Sherlock might die with John's name on his lips? That cut Mycroft more than anything he could have imagined that didn't have to do with Greg.

\--------------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: Lestrade pulled up to 221B after work, having called John as he was leaving. He was smiling widely as he got out and went up to the door, knocking loudly. He was greeted by Mrs. Hudson opening the door and flashing him one of her blinding smiles.

You: "Hello, dear, how are you?" she asked, stepping back so that Lestrade could step inside. "You seem happy today."

Stranger: "I'm amazing, thank you, Mrs. Hudson. And I am happy, the happiest I've been in a long time," Lestrade beamed, moving in and brushing his shoes off on the floor mat.

You: "Oh, really?" Mrs. Hudson asked, her smile growing wider. Lestrade tended to come by so often to talk to Sherlock that she had semi-adopted him as well and was happy that he was happy. "What's gotten you so happy then?"

Stranger: "I just asked Mycroft to marry me, and he said yes! He bloody said yes, and I can't be happier!" Lestrade almost sang, his smile growing. "This is the best thing that has ever happened to me, Mrs. Hudson!"

You: Mrs. Hudson let out a sound that she would vehemently deny was a squeal and threw her arms around Lestrade. She hugged him tightly until they were both breathless with laughter then let him go. "You should have some tea and biscuits with me," she said, catching her breath. "Celebrate a bit."

Stranger: "I'm actually here to pick up John to do just that," Lestrade said, his smile very obvious in his tone. "If he agrees, I'd love to have tea with you, as long as you don't mind a third."

You: "Course not," Mrs. Hudson exclaimed. "John is so very pleasant to be around now. That book has really taken his mind off a lot of things." Her smile dimmed a bit at the thought, loss biting sharply at her.

Stranger: "I know. He really is great at doing it too," Lestrade said, his smile faltering as well. "I'll run up to get him and we'll be right down."

You: "I'll get the tea ready," Mrs. Hudson said before giving him one last hug and bustling into her flat.

Stranger: Lestrade ran up the stairs, taking them two at a time, and knocked on John's door. As soon as the door opened, he flung arms around John's neck, unable to hold back his happiness.

You: "Hey, warn a guy before you almost hug him into the floor!" John exclaimed, flinging his arms around Lestrade to catch his balance. He laughed at the absurdity of it all, the warm feeling something he'd missed.

Stranger: "I'm sorry, I couldn't help it," Lestrade laughed letting go. "Hope you don't mind a change of plans, Mrs. Hudson invited us to tea instead."

You: "Not at all," John said, stepping into his shoes. "Is she making scones? Or maybe biscuits? I love her biscuits, I swear they are the most addictive thing I've ever eaten."

Stranger: "She mentioned biscuits," Lestrade smiled, watching John getting ready. "I swear, John, I've never been happier in my life!"

You: "I'm really happy for you, Greg, I am," John replied. He decided not to put his coat on since they were just going downstairs and led the way out of his flat. "You guys done any planning yet? Or are you still at the "He said yes!" stage?"

Stranger: "I've had thoughts, but we haven't talked since he said yes," Lestrade said, following John down the stairs.

You: "Well, when he comes back, I guess you guys'll have a lot to talk about," John mused, knocking on Mrs. Hudson's door. "Harry was a right pain before her wedding with Clara. Everything had to be just so! And the screaming fits she'd throw if everything wasn't perfect!"

Stranger: "Well, I doubt either of us will go that extreme," Lestrade frowned slightly. "I'd just be happy with him standing next to me with you and a few other close friends there, to be honest."

You: "Good," John grinned. "Because we might have words if you turn into Bridezilla." Mrs. Hudson opened the door on the last word and John smiled at her before enveloping her in a hug.

Stranger: Lestrade watched the two hug and muttered to John after they had let go, "I love how you assume I'm the bride."

You: "I assume everything when I get snarky," John whispered back, a smug grin still on his face. "Besides, you really see Mycroft as the bride?"

Stranger: "Well, no," Lestrade looked at John for a long moment, taking in the smirk that was glued on his face. "Damn it... I guess I am the bride, then..."

You: "Oh, Greg, I didn't mean it like that," John said, patting Lestrade on the arm. "It was just a joke. You two are going to make wonderful grooms."

Stranger: Lestrade glared at John with a smirk on his face before putting an arm around his shoulders and giving him a squeeze. "Thanks. Oh, and this reminds me! John, would you be my best man?"

You: Mrs. Hudson made another noise that would be termed a squeal by those less tactful and turned shining eyes onto John. John's mouth dropped open and he just stared at Lestrade for a few moments. Finally, he said, "Yeah, I will. If you're sure you want me to be your best man."

Stranger: "Of course! You're the only one I'd want next to me up there as I marry the man of my dreams! I can't think of anyone else who would be more perfect!" Lestrade beamed.

You: "Thank you," John said, his grin threatening to stretch his cheeks out of all proportion. He pulled Lestrade into another hug that Mrs. Hudson joined in on, the laughter echoing out of the flat and up the stairs.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled back and turned to Mrs. Hudson. "And of course we'd want you there too," Lestrade smiled.

You: "Try and keep me away, dear," she replied, tears glimmering in her eyes. A small timer dinged and she bustled back into the kitchen, pulling a tray of chocolate chip biscuits out of the oven.

Stranger: Lestrade followed John and Mrs. Hudson into the living room and took a seat next to John on the couch, as Mrs. Hudson sat down on an armchair across the coffee table from them. "I hope you don't mind, John, but I forwarded your novel to Mycroft to read as well while he was on his trip," Lestrade said, hoping John wouldn't mind he forwarded it, even though he only forwarded it to Sherlock, he was sure Mycroft was reading it to.

You: "I don't mind," John said slowly, wondering why Mycroft wanted to read it. "I am surprised at that though. I didn't think he was much into fiction." John fought down a blush as he thought of some of the scenes in the book, hopes that he'd had to put somewhere or it felt like they were going to burst.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled as John's face turned a light pink. "I told him you based the main character after Sherlock. Maybe he was just curious on how you portrayed him. Or maybe he wanted something to feel like a small part of Sherlock was still here," Lestrade smiled sadly. "Who knows with him."

You: "O... Ok," John said, looking away from Lestrade. He breathed deeply a few times and the flush slowly faded away. "Have you read any of it yet?"

Stranger: "I haven't had much time. I read the first page, and I wanted to keep going, but sadly lunch was over by then. I spent most of it taking Mycroft to the airport," Lestrade said, taking and sipping his tea. "I'm going to read some more tonight I hope."

You: "I will definitely appreciate your input," John said heartily. "You and I guess now Mycroft, are the first ones to read any of it. I'm actually kind of nervous now." John took one of the biscuits and dunked it into his tea absently before taking a bite.

Stranger: "I doubt we'll have anything bad to say about it!" Lestrade said, patting John's leg. "I mean, Mycroft enjoyed your blog, and this is ten times better!"

You: John looked at Lestrade with disbelief etching every surface of his face. "Mycroft." John repeated. "Liked my blog?" He didn't even know the elder Holmes cared about what John wrote, much less actually enjoyed it.

Stranger: "Yeah, he said he always read it. Watched for new updates. Said it started out as a protective eye out for what his brother was up to, but after a while he started enjoying reading it," Lestrade said, biting into a biscuit.

You: "I think that has permanently blown my mind," John laughed, dunking his biscuit again and finishing it off. "Now I'm not sure if I want to hear what Mycroft thinks. Especially if he can deduce even half as well as Sherlock could."

Stranger: "Why's that? What did you put in there, John?" Lestrade smirked and chuckled as he polished off his tea.

You: "Lots of things," John hedged, also taking a drink of his tea. "Things that really had nowhere else to go."

Stranger: "Like..?" Lestrade poked for him to continue.

You: John sighed and finished off his tea. He picked up another biscuit, more to have something to fidget with rather than to eat it. "Things... I'd hoped for," he said softly. "A happy ending for someone even if they are fiction."

Stranger: Lestrade's heart dropped listening to John sound so upset. He moved a fraction of an inch closer and put his hand on John's arm, looking up to see Mrs. Hudson covering her mouth with her hand and looking at them sadly. "John... You'll have a happy ending someday soon," Lestrade whispered, his hand moving up and down on John's jumper. "You'll find someone you really love and you'll get married."

You: "Like I said before, when we had a similar discussion, maybe," John said, turning the biscuit round and round in his fingers. He stared down at the floor for a few seconds before taking one deep breath and letting it out on a sigh. At that, he changed his expression completely, forcing a happier look onto his face. "But this is a celebration for you, Greg," he said cheerfully. "Congratulations, yet again!"

Stranger: Lestrade glared at John sadly for a moment before letting a small sad smile pull at his lips. "Thanks, John," He said, nodding slowly.

You: John felt terrible for ruining what was supposed to be a happy evening for Lestrade. He poured another cup of tea for himself, dunking the cookie and eating it quickly. Rising after, he hugged Mrs. Hudson and Lestrade before excusing himself upstairs. Hopefully, his friends would be able to salvage something happier after he was gone.

Stranger: "I shouldn't have asked..." Lestrade said, watching the door close with a slight slam behind John. They were supposed to be out having fun, together.

You: "It will be all right, dear," Mrs. Hudson said quietly, patting Lestrade's knee. "John bottled everything up inside. I could see it after he died, you know. It's not your fault." She smiled at Lestrade, compassion in her gaze.

Stranger: "Thank you," Lestrade smiled and sat back a little, sipping his tea. He thought of John and just how bad Sherlock needed to make it back to him ASAP.

You: "Have you and Mycroft set a date yet?" she asked, breaking into Lestrade's reverie. She definitely wanted to be there.

Stranger: "Oh, no. He's currently away on a business trip so we haven't talked about it much. I plan on having a very long talk about it as soon as he's back though," Lestrade smiled, setting his tea in it's cup on the table.

You: "Sounds wonderful, dear," Mrs. Hudson replied, smiling at Lestrade before taking a sip of her tea. "You'll have to let me know what you decide. That will give me time to get a wedding present for you."

Stranger: "Of course! I'll send out the cards as soon as one is picked, and I'll make sure you're the first one I send one to," Lestrade nodded, checking the time on his phone and also seeing if Mycroft had texted him again. "So how are things with you?" He asked with a smile, repocketing the cell phone.

You: "Oh, you know, same old life," she said dismissively, waving a hand to encompass her flat. "Though it has been a mite quieter since he passed away."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded, wetting his lips as he remembered she was one of the targets, thus, not allowed to know he was alive. But why was he allowed to know? Hadn't he been a target as well?

You: Mrs. Hudson continued to talk quietly about her life, the married couple next door, her newest boyfriend, and John. She noticed that Lestrade was thinking very hard but decided to let him work through it. She knew how it felt to have so many thoughts and not know where to start.

Stranger: After a while of sitting and chatting with Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade heard his phone ping with the alarm he had set to go off on workdays to let him know it was nine. He glanced at his phone clock and smiled back up at Mrs. Hudson. "I'm sorry, it's getting late, I'm afraid I must be going," he said, standing and smiling down at her.

You: Standing to hug the DI, Mrs. Hudson patted him on the back reassuringly. "Have a good night, dear," she said. "And if you ever need to talk, my door is always open to you."

Stranger: "Thank you, Mrs. Hudson. And thank you for the tea and biscuits. They were amazing," He said as he went to the door and stood outside the frame, her standing and leaning against the door. They said their goodbyes and Lestrade started towards the door to leave. He paused, his hand on the doorknob, and thought he should at least go up and say goodbye to John one last time. He knew how lonely the man must have been.

You: John was sitting on his armchair, just staring at the skull on the mantle. He was in the same position he had taken when he first escaped back up here, his hands steepled under his chin in the same pose Sherlock had often taken while thinking.

Stranger: Lestrade took the stairs two at a time and knocked on the door. He waited for John to answer, noting the flat door was still unlocked.

You: Turning his head to stare at the door, John wondered if he wanted to get up and let what was most likely Lestrade in. His emotions had taken a decidedly downward turn and he wasn't really in the mood for company. Or for inflicting his grief on others.

Stranger: "John?" Lestrade called, his heart dropping as he knocked on the door again. "John, please, open the door..."

You: "You can come in, if you want," John offered, sighing. He dropped his hands to the arms of the chair and continued to stare at the skull. He couldn't help but feel that it was laughing at him.

Stranger: Lestrade gently pushed the door open, poking his head inside. "John? Are you alright?" He asked slowly, only taking one step into the flat, just enough to shut the door.

You: "Fine," John said, hoping the blatant lie would pass. He had truly been feeling happier, the grief and sorrow overriding him less and less. But there were just some things that would cause all of the emotions to flood back and overwhelm him.

Stranger: "Why do I feel I shouldn't believe you?" Lestrade asked gently, moving slowly over to where John sat.

You: "Because I've never been good at lying?" John replied, a bitter laugh escaping him. "Sorry. You should be happy tonight, not dealing with my bad emotions."

Stranger: "Well, maybe I want to deal with them," Lestrade said, moving over to the chair and bending down to sit on his knees next to the arm, knowing John would feel more comfortable being able to look down at him rather than up. "I want you happy, John. You're my friend."

You: "I know," John replied. "It's just... they hit like a wave, you know? One minute everything's going fine and I'm happy and smiling and the next, it's like a tsunami crashed over me and he's all I can think about."

Stranger: "I know," Lestrade nodded, placing a caring hand on the back of John's and rubbing it gently. "I think about him too sometimes. I've cried over him, and I've had times where all I can do is just sit there and feel sorry over his death. Sometimes, all I can do is just picture him strutting into my office and demanding a case. It's hard, I know that. But you can't just seal yourself away every time you're feeling that pain. You have to talk to someone, let it out, either with me, or Mrs. Hudson, or even that... skull... over there. You can't bottle it all up." Lestrade said gently, making sure to squeeze John's arm caringly and run his thumb over the soft skin.

 

You: John looked up at the skull, the damn thing still grinning because it was the only thing it could do. He knew that Lestrade was right, but opening up was difficult. He'd never liked going to his therapist; she always wanted to fix him rather than let him deal with things in his own time. "I can still see him sometimes," John whispered. "I thought it would have gone after so long, but every once in a while, I feel like I catch sight of him in the crowd. Or hear his footsteps on the stairs. And it's never him. It's never going to be him. And I feel like I just lost him all over again."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded, running his hand over John's arm carefully, urging him silently to go on. He kept soft eyes trained on John's face, although his was looking away. He knew how much pain he felt.

You: "Sometimes when it gets too much, I go sleep in his room for the night," John admitted quietly, staring down at the floor. "I know it's my imagination but I can still smell him in the room and it's comforting. I miss him so much it's like a sucking wound in my chest. How do I deal with that when it feels like each breath is my last?"

Stranger: "Please, John, don't talk like that," Lestrade soothed, tightening his grip slightly. "You'll make it through. I know it's hard, and it may take a while, but you're strong. Stronger than a lot of people I know, and, hell, you've seen war! If anyone can make it through this, I know you can."

You: John finally turned his head to meet Lestrade's eyes. He knew he had a blank look on his face but all he could see on the DI's face was compassion and affection. "Thank you," John said softly. "It would have been immeasurably harder to go through this alone. Thank you."

Stranger: "I'll always be here for you, John. Never be afraid to call me. I want to help you," Lestrade tried to smile, only managing a sad attempt. "I care about you, a lot! If you leave too... Well, that would be the end of me... You and Mycroft are everyone I have left, and my world revolves around you guys. I'll always go out of my way for you two to make sure you're happy."

You: John laughed again, the sound dry and choking. "I'm not going anywhere, Greg. I tried that already and it didn't work. Plus, Sherlock would have been so disappointed that I chose something he would have called dull. I'm sorry to have ruined part of your night."

Stranger: "Never," Lestrade said, smiling a little more truthfully. "I'm happy if you are. My night wasn't ruined. In fact, there's still time to head to the bar for a quick round or two, if you wish to numb the pain a little?"

You: "No, I don't think that's a good idea," John shook his head. "I tried that before and it just left me emptier the next day. I think I'm going to put on some crap telly and let my mind wander for a while."

Stranger: "Alright, maybe we can do something in a few days? Head back out to the shooting range or something? You look like you can use some fun," Lestrade said standing, his hand still on John's arm.

You: "Sure," John replied, trying to force a smile onto his face. Though he was pretty sure it came out more as a grimace than a smile. "Can't let my abilities atrophy completely."

Stranger: "Sounds good," Lestrade nodding, ignoring the painful smile. "Now stand up and give me a hug, would you?" He laughed as John rolled his eyes.

You: John decided to humor Lestrade because he felt he could really use a hug right now. Not that he'd ever really admit it. John stood and wrapped his arms around Lestrade, hugging the man tightly.

Stranger: "It'll all be alright in the end, I promise you," Lestrade said into John's shoulder, holding John tightly and feeling the unsteady breathing of uncried tears.

You: "I hope so," John murmured. He held the hug for another few moments, then stepped back. He didn't let the tears glimmering in his eyes fall, nor did he move to wipe them away.

Stranger: Lestrade saw the slight glint of a tear that was in John's eyes. With a sad smile and a light hand on John's shoulder, he turned to start towards the door.

You: "Good night, Greg," John said, walking towards the door with him. "I'll call you in the next few days and we'll set up another day to go to the range."

Stranger: "Sounds great, John," Lestrade said, standing in the doorway. "Good night, get some rest, okay? Talk to you in a few days." He started down the stairs.

You: "Right," John said quietly, moving back to his armchair and sitting down slowly. His leg was aching fiercely today and he had a pretty good idea why. "Why'd you do it, you madman?" he asked the skull. "You were trying to tell me something before you fell. What did I miss?"

\---------------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: "Joshua?" The doctor called out to the few people in the sitting room.

You: "That's me," Mycroft said urgently, standing quickly and moving towards the doctor. "How's Dean?"

Stranger: "He's lost a lot of blood, and luckily we had his type to replace it to where he should be fine. He's still out though, and probably won't wake up for another two days or so, depending," the doctor said, reading off his charts. "But as soon as he's up, he should be fine."

You: "When will he be able to leave?" Mycroft asked, wanting to get out of Dubai as quickly as possible. They had completely lost Moran and not even Anthea with her superior abilities at finding people could find him.

Stranger: "His wounds are serious, and I think he should stay for at least two and a half weeks, seeing his state."

You: "He won't like that when he wakes up," Mycroft shook his head. "A family friend of mine is a doctor. If I have him watched until he's better healed, can we leave once he wakes?"

Stranger: "He really should stay in a hospital, just in case something takes a turn for the worse. Plus, I don't believe traveling would be the best idea at the time being," the doctor said, re-reading the charts in his hands.

You: Mycroft nodded, already planning ways of getting Sherlock out of the hospital if he needed to. Moran didn't know their names but he could just as easily find out who was admitted today to hospitals with gunshot wounds. They wouldn't be safe as long as they were here.

Stranger: "Do you wish to see him?" Asked the doctor, motioning to the doors behind him.

You: "Yes, I would," Mycroft said, following after. He watched the doorways and the hospital workers as he walked, wondering if any of them were connected to IOU.

Stranger: The doctor motioned Mycroft into a room at the end of a hallway, saying he must go talk to a few others in the waiting room. He left Mycroft alone, standing just outside the hospital door to Sherlock's room.

You: Taking a deep breath, worried more than he would admit about seeing his brother in a hospital bed, Mycroft walked inside and looked at Sherlock. The detective looked small and vulnerable, his eyes closed and chest moving as he breathed.

Stranger: The machines beeped slowly, counting each gentle heart beat against the pad tightly wrapped around the man's wrist. The screens were dimmed as to not disturb whoever may be sleeping in the room.

 

You: Mycroft moved carefully into the room, dropping into the chair. He didn't think he was going to wake Sherlock up but he didn't want to take the chance. He watched as Sherlock breathed and wished he knew what all the lines on the machines meant.

Stranger: Mycroft's phone beeped in his pocket, calling out to be answered. All the machines beeped around the bed in response.

You: I've done the best I can, run every single trace I can on every single name I believe Moran might use. Nothing. He's gone. I'm sorry. - Anthea

Stranger: Mycroft sighed deeply, his anger crowding his mind along with his fear. He gripped the phone a little harder, rereading the text at least three times over.

You: Is everything all right? Usually you respond by now. I'll keep looking for him, don't doubt that. - Anthea

Stranger: Fine. Sherlock's in the hospital and we may have to stay here for almost three weeks. -MH

You: That's not going to be safe. If you like, I can arrange to have him transported back here. - Anthea

Stranger: If you can arrange that, that would be amazing. I had no such luck, but of course I couldn't give my real name. -MH

You: Consider it done. I will text you back to let you know when the transfer will happen. - Anthea

Stranger: You're the best. -MH Mycroft exited out of the text screen and looked at Sherlock for a long while. He sighed and opened a new text to Lestrade. He really needed to clear his mind.

You: Love, you have a few minutes to talk? - MH

Stranger: Sure, how are you doing? You okay? -GL

You: I'm fine, yes, but Moran shot Sherlock. Shoulder and thigh. He's fine now but unconscious. I... I needed to talk to you. - MH

Stranger: Of course, babe. I'm here for you. How are you, really? Emotionally? -GL

You: Honestly? Terrified. What if he doesn't wake up? And what if Moran decides to take out you, John and Mrs. Hudson because he was followed? How are we going to deal with him if he twigged to us following him so quickly? - MH

Stranger: I'll protect John and Mrs. Hudson, not to worry. And Sherlock, not waking up? Babe, think how strong he is. He will wake up. You have to believe in him. -GL

You: I know, love, but you don't see him right now. How vulnerable he looks. - MH

Stranger: I wish I could be holding you right now. Babe, you just worry about watching over him. He will wake up.

You: The doctor said in about a day or two he should. And Anthea is arranging for Sherlock to be transferred to a hospital in London. - MH

Stranger: At least if they do, I can be with you. -GL

You: Yes, I'm looking forward to that as well. As long as you weren't planning on taking certain questions back, of course. - MH

Stranger: Mycroft, my love, I love you, but sometimes you can be such an idiot. I would never take back that question. I asked you, you said yes, and Hell, I've already been day dreaming about it! John and I had a freaking conversation on which one of us would be the bride! So you know I'm serious about this!! -GL

You: The bride? I would hope both of us would be grooms. And right now, I'm doubting. You've been daydreaming about it? What were you thinking? - MH

Stranger: You're doubting I'm serious about this? Babe... And yes, we would both be grooms, but it's a joke... And just... Seeing you next to me... Up there and all... Why are you doubting that? :( -GL

You: I'm not doubting you. I'm doubting me. But nevermind. That sounds like a wonderful image. You in a black tux would be gorgeous. - MH

Stranger: No, not nevermind. Why would you doubt yourself? What's wrong, love of my life? -GL

You: It's.... difficult to explain. I feel as if I failed somehow, that I should have been the one hurt to protect Sherlock. Everything I've done with him was to protect him and he would fight me tooth and nail.

Stranger: Babe, he's your younger brother, and you know how he hates feeling like he's overpowered by anything. Being under you is something he can't stand, knowing his personality. Hes going to fight. You can't blame yourself, Hun. -GL

You: I know. But if I can't protect and help him, how can I do the same for anyone else? It's one part of what I love about my job. All the changes for the better I can enact. Sometimes I really do think caring is a disadvantage. - MH

Stranger: Hun, you help people all the time. You helped me with Sherlock's death when I thought he was dead. You're helping Sherlock save John, Mrs. Hudson, and my own life as we speak. You do it everyday at work as you said. You can't do it all. Sherlock is alive. That's what matters, everyone is alive. In a way, I owe you my life. You've saved it so many times. -GL

You: Mycroft sighed deeply as he read that text, some of the tension and worry leaving him. His shoulders relaxed as he settled deeper into the uncomfortable hospital chair. I would save your life a thousand times over to keep you by my side. I love you. - MH

Stranger: And mine, yours, darling. I love you too. I miss you like crazy. -GL

You: I miss you too. Anthea should be contacting me soon. She is one of the most efficient people I have ever met. It's almost scary. With luck, I can be in your arms by tomorrow night. - MH

Stranger: I hope so, my love, but if you need to stay, for Sherlock's sake, I'll understand. <3 -GL

You: Thank you. I will probably stay during the day but at night I'm going to come home to you. At least until he wakes up. - MH

Stranger: Babe, only come back if he's safe. I don't want something to happen that only hurts you. -GL

You: I will. You are amazing, you know that? - MH

Stranger: That's you, my love. Are you feeling better at all? Anything happen? -GL

You: I am, thank you love. And Sherlock isn't awake yet but my phone just beeped again. I think Anthea's texting me back. Can I talk to you later? - MH

Stranger: Of course, I'm always here. Love you. -GL

You: Love you too. - MH. After sending that text, Mycroft opened his text messages again and scrolled to the most recent one from Anthea. He breathed a sigh of relief as he read the message.

Stranger: We can move him tomorrow morning, around noon. Says he'll have to go by car, though. Ambulance will take you both and it's almost a three day drive. -Anthea

You: Thank you, Anthea. Who did you speak to and was there no other way to get back to London? - MH

Stranger: I had to pull strings, sir. I talked to many people and the only way they would allow him to go is by ambulance, so people are nearby if something was to go wrong. -Anthea

You: I understand. Keep looking for Moran while you're working. He can't hide forever. - MH

Stranger: Right away, sir. -Anthea

You: Mycroft sighed as he checked on Sherlock again. The man was still unconscious, the smooth rise and fall of his chest the only movement. Mycroft looked back down at his phone and decided to text Greg again. Leaving tomorrow about noon. Have to drive, though, so I won't be back for at least three days after that. - MH

Stranger: I understand. We can always text during that time, babe. -GL

You: I miss you so much. I can't wait to be back home with you. And since I won't be driving and Sherlock may not even be awake, I'm going to be texting you a lot. - MH

Stranger: Good! I love talking to you. I can't wait till you get home so I can ask you "the question" again. -GL

You: I'm looking forward to that as well. And planning everything. I want to see how you look in a tux. - MH

Stranger: And I want to see you in one too. I bet you'll look handsome, even more so than usual. -GL

You: I've worn a tux before and gotten compliments. I don't think you'll be at all disappointed, love. - MH

Stranger: I doubt I can be, as long as it's you. -GL

You: You always know what to say, Greg. How do you do that? - MH

Stranger: I don't know, Mycroft. I guess I'm just a flirt. -GL

You: I wouldn't say flirt, but I still love it. It's wonderful to be able to speak honestly with someone. - MH

Stranger: I'm glad you trust me enough to do so, love. -GL

You: Always, my dearest. Though night and this day is catching up to me. Thanks to the time difference, it's almost 2 in the morning for me. I'm going to try to get some sleep. Good night, love. - MH

Stranger: Good night my love, I'll talk to you tomorrow. Text me when you can. Love you! -GL

You: I will. Sleep well, Greg and I love you. - MH

\----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: The ambulance arrived around ten minutes past noon, pulling up to the front. The doctor Mycroft had talked to the day before came into the room. "Sir, the ambulance is outside and waiting whenever you are ready, I shall send nurses to help move Dean."

You: Mycroft nodded and said, "Now would be fine." He watched as the nurses came in and prepared Sherlock to be taken on the ambulance. Once they were done, a pair of paramedics took their place and wheeled the gurney out to the ambulance.

Stranger: Mycroft followed suit as Sherlock was loaded into the ambulance. He sat on the bench next to Sherlock and gently took his hand.

You: "The drive should last about three and a half days," the shorter paramedic said as he slid into the driver's seat. "We'll be taking a ferry across the Channel from France."

Stranger: Mycroft nodded and thought about texting Greg the news, but pushed the thought out of his mind as the ambulance began it's journey.

You: The paramedics were fairly silent for the drive, only speaking to ask him to move or to each other. Mycroft spent the ride staring at Sherlock, willing his little brother to wake up.

Stranger: Mycroft squeezed Sherlock's hand lightly, hoping for a response. He couldn't die. Not with John's name on his lips, not with John waiting for him to come back.

You: The drive was tedious for the rest of the day, the paramedic finally stopping at a rest stop to sleep for a few hours. While itching at the delay, Mycroft understood the need for sleep and allowed himself to drift off. Until he felt a movement from the hand clutched in his own.

Stranger: Sherlock squeezed the hand he felt clutching his. "J-John-" He moaned, almost non-understandable. He tried to shift to see John's face, but was overtaken by blackness.

You: "He's not here," Mycroft murmured. "I've got you. It's all right. You'll see him again soon." Mycroft wasn't sure if Sherlock actually heard him or not but had heard coma patients could hear things. He just hoped he got through.

Stranger: After the few hours of sleep, the ambulance started off again, pulling out of the rest stop. Mycroft didn't and wouldn't let go of Sherlock's hand. He felt he needed to have contact with him. Felt if he kept holding his hand, Sherlock would keep holding onto life.

You: The sun rose shortly after they left, the light highlighting how pale Sherlock still was. He had lost a lot of blood. After a few hours, they stopped again to get food but carried it with them into the ambulance at Mycroft's insistence. He just wanted to get home.

Stranger: Lestrade sat in his office at his desk, his feet propped up on the hardwood and his hands cradling his head as he stared at the ceiling. He had tried all day to focus on his work, for he had a lot of it, but he couldn't drag his mind from Mycroft.

You: Mycroft was still watching Sherlock, even hours later as they drove across different countries. His younger brother hadn't stirred since he spoke John's name and Mycroft was starting to get worried. Though the paramedics assured him that this was normal.

Stranger: Lestrade took his phone in his hands and leaned back, opening a new text message and typing out a note to Mycroft. He deleted it and tried again, deleting it at least three more times before closing his phone and pocketing it. He just couldn't bring himself to send them, knowing Mycroft was probably looking after Sherlock.

You: Sherlock finally shifted again, pulling his hand away from Mycroft's. He settled it down next to himself on the bed. Heartened, Mycroft scrubbed a hand over his eyes and pulled out his phone. Hello, love. You have some time free? - MH

Stranger: Lestrade smiled wide at the text when he saw it come in. He picked up the phone and read it quickly. Always, I was thinking of texting you but convinced myself of it. -GL

You: You could have texted me. I have some good news. Sherlock moved and the paramedics think he'll wake soon. Just passed into Greece. - MH

Stranger: That's great! How is your free tour of the country? -GL

You: Kind of boring actually. Not getting to see much because I want to get back as soon as possible. We'll have to do this again together sometime. - MH

Stranger: I'd love that. Honeymoon? -GL

You: Perfect. Where would you like to go first, love? - MH

Stranger: Maybe we can figure that out when you get back. Plan it out on a map? -GL

You: All right. Though I would love to have dinner with you overlooking the ocean and the ruins in Greece. - MH

Stranger: That sounds amazing. Who knew you were such a romantic? -GL

You: I certainly didn't. It appears that you bring out all sorts of things in me. I'm rather enjoying it. - MH

Stranger: I'm so glad. I miss you so badly. Wasn't able to get any work done today. -GL

You: I'm sorry to hear that. Perhaps you need a chase to get your mind off things? I'm sure your associate Sally Donovan could find something for you. - MH

Stranger: Maybe you're right... I just haven't been able to get you off my mind. Things aren't the same when you're not here. Especially at night. The bed is cold. -GL

You: I've missed you next to me as well. It's difficult to sleep without you. One thing I've discovered that helps me get my mind to slow down is paperwork. Lots and lots of paperwork. - MH

Stranger: Paperwork is my least favorite part of this job... but you know, has to get done. I may sneak some onto Anderson's desk. -GL

You: Why do you tolerate him? Even I've heard the rants Sherlock has gone on about Anderson. - MH

Stranger: I don't even know... I feel bad for him? Maybe? No... I don't know... -GL

You: It's your team, Greg. Don't worry too much. I just want to make sure you have everything at your disposal to do your job adequately. - MH

Stranger: I'm fine, love. I just need you back in my arms at night, is all. -GL

You: I'll be back soon. Two days. And you aren't going to be leaving my bed for several hours, love. - MH

Stranger: Should I call in sick? -GL

You: That may be a good idea. I don't want to have to let you go. But Sherlock is moving again, he may be waking up. Can I text you later? - MH

Stranger: Sure, text me when everything settles. I love you, darling. -GL

You: Mycroft pocketed his phone and took Sherlock's hand again, watching his eyes fluttering behind closed lids. "Come on, Sherlock," Mycroft whispered. "Wake up. You can't stay like this."

Stranger: "What did you say, sir?" The woman next to Mycroft, who was now checking Sherlock's pulse, asked. "Did you call him-"

You: "Sorry, what?" Mycroft asked severely, glaring at the woman. "I merely said he needed to wake up."

Stranger: "But, before that... You called him-"

You: "No, I didn't," Mycroft said. "I called him a nickname we've used for each other since we were kids. That's all."

Stranger: "So you've known each other a while?" The nurse asked, raising an eyebrow at him. "What was this nickname? I don't think I caught it properly."

You: "Yes, we have," Mycroft mused, staring down at Sherlock. "And it was Short Round. Dean's a huge fan of Indiana Jones."

Stranger: "I see. Well, that's nice then," she said, going back to Sherlock's arm.

You: Mycroft sighed quietly at the close call. He'd forgotten that the paramedic was back here and had almost blown Sherlock's cover. He watched as his younger brother fidgeted a bit more then cracked his eyes open.

Stranger: "J-John?" Sherlock muttered, turning his head towards Mycroft. "Mycroft?" It was barely a whisper.

You: "Dean, you're in an ambulance," Mycroft said quickly. "John isn't here but we're heading back home. Do you understand?"

Stranger: "N-No... Mycroft..." Sherlock whispered, his voice not working well for him. His head was swimming and Mycroft's words mixed together.

You: "Just relax," Mycroft said, glad that the paramedic had climbed back into the front seat again. "And I'm Joshua. You need to remember that. I'm Joshua."

Stranger: "Joshua?" Sherlock muttered. "Right..."

You: "You need to try and stay awake a little longer, Dean," Mycroft said, pressing Sherlock's hand. "You were shot and have been unconscious for almost two days."

Stranger: "And Moran?" Sherlock asked, his throat going dry. "Is there water?"

You: "Gone and yes, I've got some here," Mycroft held the water bottle against Sherlock's lips and helped him drink. "He's being tracked though no one can find him at the moment. You just need to concentrate on getting well."

Stranger: "But... we need to... go after him..." Sherlock protested as the water was taken away. He tried to sit up.

You: "Lay back down," Mycroft said, pushing on Sherlock's shoulder. "He's a ghost again for now and injuring yourself further won't find him faster. We're driving back to London and you need to take it easy."

Stranger: Sherlock shook his head in protest but allowed himself to be pushed back down. He sighed deeply and winced. "How far?"

You: "About two more days," Mycroft replied. "We're in Greece right now. Flying was out of the question and driving was the only option. I figured you'd want to get out of the hospital and back home as soon as possible."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded slowly. "Can I have some more water? Really thirsty."

You: Mycroft helped him drink again and Sherlock drained half the water bottle. He set it back down on the seat next to him and turned to Sherlock again. "What's the last thing you remember?" Mycroft asked.

Stranger: "I remember chasing after Moran... Then pain... A lot of pain... Then something about John... Then black..."

You: "He shot you," Mycroft supplied. "Shoulder and thigh. It was a very near thing. John was the last thing you said. I'm guessing he was the last thing you were thinking about."

Stranger: "How near?" Sherlock questioned, his mind working on trying to regain the memories.

You: "If the ambulance hadn't gotten to us as quickly as it did, you would have bled out," Mycroft said reluctantly. He wasn't sure how much to tell Sherlock but knew his brother would push until he got all the information he wanted.

Stranger: "Bad, then," Sherlock mumbled. "Sorry... I remember I was running ahead... Maybe if I didn't dive in head first like I did..."

You: "It's not your fault," Mycroft said sternly. "Moran was suspicious of us since Dublin. No matter what, I don't think we were going to get him."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded, his brow creasing. "I'm feeling tired, Joshua... I'm going to try to sleep some more."

You: "All right," Mycroft said, smiling fondly at his brother. He watched as Sherlock fell into a deep sleep and finally relaxed the tension he'd only vaguely been aware he'd been holding. Sherlock would live and that's what mattered.

Stranger: The next couple days passed in a haze. Sherlock woke up at least twice more for short amounts of time, and Mycroft texted Lestrade for a while. After a while, they pulled into the lot of Bart's and the door was opened.

You: Mycroft nodded tiredly at Molly and stepped out of the ambulance. The paramedics wheeled the gurney out and up to the hospital's entrance. "I can take it from here," Molly said, nodding at them.

Stranger: Mycroft nodded as the paramedics left and turned to Molly. "Good to see you," he said with a tired smile.

You: "You too," Molly said. She maneuvered the gurney into the hospital and to a private wing, ensconcing Sherlock in his own room. "I can watch him for a while if you want to go catch up with Greg?" Molly offered.

Stranger: "That would be great. I want to go home and shower anyway. What time does your shift end so I don't hold you over?" Mycroft asked, moving to look over Sherlock quickly.

You: "I just got on, actually," Molly said, following Mycroft's gaze to stare at Sherlock as well. She was really tired of seeing the people she cared about in hospital beds. "So you've got plenty of time."

Stranger: "Thank you, that's very nice of you, Molly. I'll be back in a few hours then," Mycroft said, moving towards the door, planning on calling a cab and going to Lestrade's work, knowing he wouldn't be home.

You: Molly nodded and smiled, watching the joy cross Mycroft's face. He was a different person with Greg and she was glad of it. She moved to sit in the chair next to Sherlock's bed and pulled a book out of one of the voluminous pockets of her lab coat.

Stranger: Mycroft rushed outside and hailed a cab, climbing in and telling the address to Lestrade's work. He leaned back, smiling to himself as he watched the place near.

You: Lestrade was staring at the paperwork on his desk and tapping a pen idly. He still had several cases to write up and probably a few more hours before he could go home.

Stranger: Mycroft smiled as he stopped in front of the DI's office door. He knocked and waited.

You: "Come in," Lestrade called absently, typing on his keyboard. He didn't even look up as the door opened, expecting it to be Donovan or Anderson. "What do you need?" he asked

Stranger: "Well, that's not a very nice tone to use to your boyfriend," Mycroft teased. "Should I get used to that for when we're married?" He shut the door behind him and smiled as Lestrade looked up quickly.

You: "Mycroft?" Lestrade asked incredulously, his eyes wide. He jumped up out of his chair and hurried around his desk, folding Mycroft into his arms. "I missed you love," he said before kissing Mycroft.

Stranger: "That's better," Mycroft laughed, kissing Lestrade back and holding him tighter. "I missed you too, babe."

You: Mycroft ran his hands down Greg's back, kissing him deeply. He had missed the taste and smell of his fiance and made up for it now.

Stranger: "How's Sherlock doing?" Lestrade asked before kissing Mycroft again gently.

You: "Better," Mycroft replied. "He woke up a few times on the trip and wasn't delirious or anything. He just needs time to recover."

Stranger: "I'm so glad. And I'm glad you're okay too," Lestrade beamed, stepping back, but still holding Mycroft's hands.

You: "I'm perfectly fine, just tired," Mycroft replied, rubbing a thumb over the back of Greg's hands. He stepped forward and nudged Greg back until the DI bumped into his desk and sat on it. "Though I still have plans. When do you get to leave?"

Stranger: "Not until I finish all this paperwork," Lestrade frowned, nodding at the stack of papers on his desk.

You: "Then I probably shouldn't sweep them off the desk to lay you over it, should I?" Mycroft asked, deceptively lightly. He nipped at Greg's earlobe and trailed kisses down the side of his neck.

Stranger: "N-no, that wouldn't be... be good," Lestrade struggled to speak, his eyes closing in pleasure.

You: "Pity," Mycroft murmured, rubbing his hands up Greg's thighs. "I'll have to save that for next time then."

Stranger: "We could always just... set them down..." Lestrade said, himself panting and his pants becoming tight.

You: "We could," Mycroft agreed, carefully stacking the papers and dropping them on the chair behind him. "Now where were we?"

Stranger: Lestrade shuddered as Mycroft's stare caught his own and he saw the hint of strong hunger flash across the dark pupils. "I-I don't... you were-"

You: "I think I remember now," Mycroft said silkily, pressing back against Greg's shoulders until he was lying across the desk. Leaning back, Mycroft looked at Greg and smiled. "You look perfect," he growled before leaning down to kiss Greg again.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned loudly as Mycroft leaned into him on his desk, his erection being pressed into Mycroft's thigh. He felt Mycroft's tongue flicker across his lip and retreat, causing another moan to escape him.

You: "Lucky everyone had gone home before I got here," Mycroft muttered. "I don't think I could let you be quiet right now." Mycroft slid his hands down Greg's chest and to the waistband of his pants, dipping his fingers below.

Stranger: "Mycroft, please... take me..." Lestrade muttered, heat flaring up where Mycroft laid his fingers, all the heat going straight to his crotch.

You: Mycroft grinned and slipped his hand inside Greg's pants. He wrapped his fingers around Greg's erection and stroked slowly. He leaned back up to kiss Greg deeply as he sped up his hand.

Stranger: Lestrade hissed and moaned as Mycroft's fingers and tongue worked magic on his body. He couldn't control the sounds he made anymore, the pleasure overtaking him.

You: Mycroft stroked faster, twisting his hand around the head of Greg's erection. He swallowed the gasps and groans eagerly, feeling Greg tremble beneath him.

Stranger: Lestrade screamed Mycroft's name as he felt his stomach tighten and came. He blushed, feeling silly at how easily it had happened, but he still leaned up to kiss Mycroft.

You: "I love watching you do that," Mycroft said, pressing a gentle kiss to Greg's cheek. "I've missed you."

Stranger: "I-I've missed you too, babe..." Lestrade smiled. He felt Mycroft pull his hand out of his pants and he sat up. He shifted uncomfortably and sighed. "Well, it's going to suck to finish this paperwork like this..."

You: Mycroft grabbed a few tissues from the box that had somehow stayed on the desk and carefully wiped Greg's skin clean. "That should help," he said. "And I can stay here and keep you company."

Stranger: "I'd love that," Lestrade smiled, standing and moving to his chair. He smiled as Mycroft pulled a chair over to the side of his desk with the computer and sat down, watching Lestrade.

You: "Can you tell me about any of them?" Mycroft asked curiously, staring at the papers on the desk.

Stranger: "Sure, but there's nothing all that special," Lestrade said, picking up a paper. "Murder, suicides, lots of suicides lately... you know, relationships gone wrong and one dies or kills..." Lestrade shrugged. "I haven't gotten an interesting case in a few weeks."

You: "The rate of suicides is up?" Mycroft repeated. "That seems odd. And I wouldn't knock not having any interesting cases. It just means that no one sick and twisted is running around London at the moment."

Stranger: "Yeah, that's true. I just want to get out of the office and have a chase. You know, move a little... Instead, I'm sitting here, gaining fat," he laughed, poking his stomach. "I just want to do something instead of filling out reports on nothing."

You: Mycroft swept his eyes over Greg appreciatively, a smile crossing his face. "You still look as handsome as ever," Mycroft said. "But if you want to run, I'm sure I can think of something for you to do."

Stranger: "I would join a gym, but by the time all this paperwork is done and I get home, I'm normally so tired all I want to do is curl up with you and sleep," Lestrade said, typing a few things out on the computer before turning the page over.

You: "You should be changing shifts soon though," Mycroft replied soothingly. "And you'll be able to work less."

Stranger: "You got that through?" Lestrade asked, looking up at Mycroft, pausing in the middle of a sentence he was typing.

You: "I did," Mycroft told him, smiling. "Or well, Anthea did most of the paperwork. I just want you to relax and stop working so hard. This shift will kill you."

Stranger: "Is everything made of paperwork these days?" Lestrade chuckled dryly, shaking his head. "And thank you, have I told you you're the best boyfriend ever?"

You: "You have but I still love to hear it. And yes, most of the world runs on paperwork. Sadly," Mycroft laughed, reaching out and running his fingers over the back of Greg's hand.

Stranger: "Speaking of boyfriends, there's something I have to do," Lestrade smiled, reaching into his pocket.

You: "What's that?" Mycroft asked, his heart beating a little faster. Somehow, he didn't think the moment would come while in Greg's office. But he wasn't complaining.

Stranger: "Mycroft, I know this isn't the most romantic place to do this, but I want to do it while we're alone and not about to shag each other senseless," Lestrade laughed, getting down on his knee and taking out the small box he had been carrying with him since Mycroft left. "Mycroft Holmes, love of my life, would you marry me?"

You: Mycroft stared at the small box, wonder and fear coursing through him. Now that it was here, he suddenly doubted whether it was a good idea. Whether he was right for Greg. He took a deep breath and said slowly, "If you are sure about this, it would be my honor Greg Lestrade. Yes."

Stranger: "I've never been more sure about anything in my life," Lestrade smiled, taking Mycroft's hand and slipping a simple silver band onto Mycroft's ring finger.

You: Mycroft examined the band, the smooth silver reflecting the light in Greg's office. He looked up and saw Greg's eyes, shining with love. "I love you," he whispered, emotions overwhelming him.

Stranger: "I love you, too, Mycroft," Lestrade smiled, still holding Mycroft's hand and looking up at him from his knees.

You: Mycroft could only continue to stare, speechless, down into Greg's eyes. His smile was so sweet it almost ached and Mycroft could feel his lips curve in return.

Stranger: "Come here," Lestrade purred, his voice cracking as happy tears threatened his eyes. He got up and sat on Mycroft's lap, pressing his hips into Mycroft's and cupping his face. He pulled him in for a slow, deep kiss.

You: Mycroft melted into the kiss and tried to let go of everything but the feel of Greg in his arms. Slowly, his joy overtook everything else and he began to kiss back in earnest.

Stranger: "You're mine," Lestrade purred between kisses. "Really mine..."

You: "Always," Mycroft murmured, wrapping his arms around Greg. He buried his head in the crook of Greg's neck and just held on, proving to his doubting mind that this man was his. That this man wanted him just as much as he wanted him.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled back to look into Mycroft's eyes, scanning them deeply with his own. "I'm so happy, love," he whispered, smiling widely.

You: "I'm glad," Mycroft told him, leaning forward and placing a gentle kiss on Greg's lips. "I am too. Does this mean your paperwork is done and we can go home?"

Stranger: "Sadly, no. I still have three more reports to finish up," Lestrade frowned, looking over at his computer. "Maybe I should have waited to ask you..."

You: "No, I like that you did," Mycroft argued, tightening his arms around Greg. "But I'd really like to take you home. I should let you go now." He didn't let go, not wanting to lose the warmth of his fiance on his lap.

Stranger: "Here, let me finish up, then we can go home and grab a shower if you want," Lestrade said, sliding his hands gently down Mycroft's arms. "Then, if you want, we can go to the hospital to check up on Sherlock. If you want to stay with him, I'll stay with you there."

You: "Thank you," Mycroft whispered. He was still worried about Sherlock, though seeing Greg again had made him forget for a while. Letting the DI slide off his lap, Mycroft propped his arms on the desk and watched as Greg typed up his last reports.

Stranger: Lestrade typed up the last sentence of his last report, and leaned back with a sigh to read it over. He scrolled through it quickly, then saved it with the rest. He would send them off first thing tomorrow morning, not wanting to bother with his email at the moment. He smiled tiredly at Mycroft as he finished shutting down his computer.

You: "Ready to go?" Mycroft asked, rising from the chair. He took Greg's hand after the DI had shrugged into his coat.

Stranger: "Yes, thank you for waiting," Lestrade said, fighting back a yawn. He reached up and pecked Mycroft on the lips quickly.

You: Mycroft smiled and led the way downstairs. "Did you drive today?" he asked.

Stranger: "No, I took a cab," Lestrade said, stepping into the elevator behind Mycroft. "I didn't feel like driving."

You: Nodding, Mycroft walked out of the building, still not relinquishing Greg's hand. He lifted his other hand imperiously and a cab stopped within a few seconds.

Stranger: "You and your brother both," Lestrade laughed as Mycroft motioned him in, following after.

You: "It's all in the confidence," Mycroft said smugly, sitting next to Greg and brushing against his leg. "Believe they will stop for you no matter what and they will."

Stranger: "I'll have to remember that, seeing it took me almost ten minutes to get one to pull over for me this morning," Lestrade rubbed his eyes as he yawned.

You: "You won't have to worry about it for a while," Mycroft assured him. "And you could always have had my driver take you to work."

Stranger: "Well, you weren't here... So I didn't want to just... use your car and all..." Lestrade blushed, turning to look past Mycroft to out his window as the buildings passed.

You: "You'll be able to now," Mycroft said, satisfaction and pride threading through his voice. "What I have is yours."

Stranger: Lestrade blushed deeply and smiled. "Thanks," he said. "But I'll only use it with you for a while... I have to get used to things in our new lives as fiances."

You: "You'll have the rest of our lives to get used to it," Mycroft chuckled. "At least until I can call you husband rather than fiance."

Stranger: "Speaking of which, I asked John to be my best man. Also, we should start planning a date, unless you wanna wait till you get Moran out of the way so you can have Sherlock there as well," Lestrade smiled, squeezing Mycroft's hand lovingly.

You: "I don't know how long it may take until Moran is dealt with," Mycroft said sadly. He squeezed back, a thumb running over the back of Greg's hand. "But I really would like Sherlock there, somehow."

Stranger: "Then we can wait," Lestrade smiled, leaning over to kiss Mycroft lightly. "We are together and one step closer to being bound that way, we can wait for, at least, your brother to be there."

You: "I would prefer that. I'd like for Sherlock to stand as my best man," Mycroft mused. "And if John is yours it wouldn't be a good idea if Sherlock was still supposed to be dead."

Stranger: "Then we shall wait," Lestrade smiled. "I don't mind. Besides, I'm sure if John and Sherlock were both our best man, and Sherlock was supposed to be dead, my best man may faint."

You: Mycroft smiled at Greg and leaned over to press another kiss to his lips. That was definitely something he wasn't getting tired of. When he sat back, the cab stopped outside his flat.

Stranger: "I love you and will wait forever if that's what it takes," Lestrade smiled as they went up to the door. He placed a lite hand on Mycroft's hip and smirked when a slight shiver went up Mycroft's back.

You: "Did you enjoy the soup you ate?" Mycroft asked, his voice gravelly. It was the first thing that popped into his head after Greg touched him and he could make his mind work again.

Stranger: "I did, I loved it and it was better than just a sandwich like I normally eat, thank you," Lestrade smiled. "Maybe you can show me how you made it sometime?"

You: "Of course," Mycroft nodded. "I enjoy cooking and I'd enjoy teaching you." He draped his coat over the stand in the hallway and started moving towards the bathroom, looking over his shoulder. "I believe you said something about a shower?"

Stranger: "Yes, I don't know about you, but I could use one," Lestrade laughed. "And if you want to join me..." He hinted.

You: "Where do you think I'm going?" Mycroft asked slyly, one eyebrow arching elegantly.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled and pushed Mycroft towards the bathroom. He pushed him to the wall, closing the door behind them, and quickly started stripping him of his clothes. "Smart ass," Lestrade growled with a smile as he threw his shirt to the ground.

You: "But you still love it," Mycroft said, stepping out of his pants as they hit the floor. He trailed his fingers down Greg's chest and under the hem of his shirt, lifting it up and over his head.

Stranger: "I do," Lestrade growled, letting Mycroft pull his shirt off over his head and pulling him into a feverish kiss.

You: Mycroft returned the kiss hungrily. He licked his way into Greg's mouth and cupped the back of his neck to hold Greg close. They stood like that for several moments before Mycroft broke away. He turned to the shower and started the water, holding his hand under the stream while he waited for it to warm.

Stranger: Lestrade watched Mycroft test the water and, when he looked happy with the temperature and about to step in, Lestrade shoved him against the wall, admitting a low huff from Mycroft. Lestrade stripped of his pants, leaving his boxers on to tease, and ground his hips against Mycroft's, ghosting kisses on his lips, pulling back before Mycroft could capture them.

You: Mycroft gasped at the sudden press of kisses and hips on his own. He reached for Greg but the man danced away before Mycroft could do more than graze him with his fingertips. "Tease," Mycroft said fondly, following after Greg.

Stranger: "Good," Lestrade cooed as he got up on his toes and nipped at Mycroft's ear, his hand going down to linger on the inside of Mycroft's thigh. He teased him with a quick brush of a thumb over the base of Mycroft's forming erection, then pulled it back before Mycroft could even react to it. Steam surrounded them and Lestrade felt himself start to sweat slightly in the tiny room.

You: Mycroft reached for Greg and smoothed his fingers down Greg's arm. He trailed them across his chest and down, skirting his groin. Mycroft continued down Greg's hip and smiled when Greg started panting. "Ready to shower now, love?" Mycroft murmured.

Stranger: Lestrade nodded and put his hands gently on Mycroft's shoulders. He slowly pushed him back, making sure he didn't trip on the edge of the tub. He pushed him into the stream of water against the wall, pressing his body up to Mycroft's, allowing the water to roll throughout his hair and down his back.

You: Mycroft tipped his head back, a small groan escaping his lips. The warm water flowed down his back and his neck, soaking his and Greg's skin. The warmth of Greg at his front and the water at his back had Mycroft reeling in pleasure.

Stranger: Lestrade took the chance and went up to bite Mycroft's neck, sucking and licking till there was a nice sized bruise to show to the world Mycroft was his. It was placed up right under his jaw, just where his shirt wouldn't cover, and Lestrade, noticing this, chuckled darkly. He ran a tongue down Mycroft's neck till he reached a nipple. He sucked it into his mouth and rolled it with his tongue, teasing it far past just being hard to the point he knew it would be painful, and he moved to the next one, mirroring what he already had done.

You: Mycroft gripped Greg's shoulders tight, his fingers digging into the flesh. He could feel that he was leaving bruises, but wanted to claim Greg just as he was claiming him. "Don't stop," Mycroft murmured, staring down into Greg's eyes. "I love having your mouth on me."

Stranger: Lestrade smirked and ran his tongue down to Mycroft's belly button. He dipped his tongue in and messed around with the nub in there, listening to Mycroft moan above him. The sound was so arousing. This man was his!

You: Mycroft tangled one hand in Greg's hair, holding him against his body. He scraped his nails over Greg's scalp in a smooth motion, massaging the skin.

Stranger: Lestrade dropped fully to his knees and looked at Mycroft's erection. He moaned slightly as it stuck in his face. Slowly, teasingly, he ran his tongue over the head.

You: Mycroft hissed in pleasure and his hips bucked forward slightly. He braced himself with one hand against the shower wall and threaded his fingers through Greg's hair. He kept staring down into Greg's eyes, drowning in the warmth.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled back after another teasing lick, feeling Mycroft melting into it. He smiled, knowing how painful Mycroft's forgotten nipples must have been, how his almost untouched cock must have been painfully burning for attention. Lestrade stood and moved over to the other side of the shower, grabbing the soap. He squeezed a generous handful over his palm and started washing himself. "I'm done," Lestrade smirked, wanting to hear Mycroft beg.

You: Mycroft breathed heavily a moment before crowding into Greg's space. He leaned forward and stopped just short of kissing him. "Please," Mycroft's breath ghosted over Greg's lips. "Love, please don't stop."

Stranger: "Why not?" Lestrade whispered. He slid a finger over Mycroft's wet cheek, tracing his bottom lip after.

You: "Too long without you," Mycroft whimpered. He turned his head to follow Greg's hand and caught the finger in his mouth. He ran his tongue over the tip and down, stroking gently. He moved his head back and Greg's finger slid out of his mouth slowly. "Please, touch me," he continued. "I haven't since the last time we were together."

Stranger: "It painful if I leave it alone?" Lestrade asked, running the softest touch along the length of Mycroft's erection from base to head.

You: "Not exactly painful," Mycroft replied. "Just extremely sensitive. Though if you keep teasing me, it might edge over into painful. Please, Greg. I need you." Mycroft dipped his head down and sucked at the crook of Greg's neck, leaving a wet, red mark.

Stranger: Lestrade wrapped his fingers around Mycroft gently, pumping slowly. He felt Mycroft's head fall to his shoulder and shudder.

You: "Yes, that's it. Oh, you feel so good, Greg," Mycroft groaned. He pumped his hips slowly, languidly, pleasure crashing over him.

Stranger: Lestrade moved his hands over his own body to gather some soap. After he got a good amount, he took Mycroft back in his hand, moving slowly and allowing the soap to let his fingers slip easily. "Mycroft," Lestrade groaned. "Your turn..."

You: Nodding, Mycroft spread his legs a little more and started moving faster. The slick feel of the soap was almost obscene and he was soon panting Greg's name heavily.

Stranger: "You are so beautiful when you're like this," Lestrade cooed, nipping up at his ear. "I want you to scream. I want you to scream my name."

You: Mycroft groaned again and bit his lip. "You should make me," he said slyly, staring deep into Greg's eyes. "I want you to make me.

Stranger: "I plan to," Lestrade growled, moving around Mycroft so he was behind him, pushing him into the wall, making sure his hips weren't pressed against the tiles. He pumped his hand as he bit the back of Mycroft's neck, his other hand circling his entrance.

You: "Oh, god, Greg please," Mycroft begged, pressing back against Greg's fingers. He reached back and cupped Greg's hip, his fingers digging in tightly.

Stranger; "Let go, Mycroft. Hands to the wall," Lestrade growled, pressing his fingers into Mycroft and giving a good, hard pump.

You: Mycroft moved his hands to the wall, placing his palms flat against the cool tiles. "O... ok," Mycroft breathed, laying his forehead against the tiles as well. He closed his eyes to concentrate on the feelings and couldn't help the smile that crossed his face. "You feel so good."

Stranger: "You're so beautiful breathless, needy, aroused," Lestrade whispered darkly. "And I get to come home to this every night! I must be the luckiest man alive."

You: Mycroft could only nod against the tiles, his breath stolen. He pressed back hard against Greg's fingers and screamed when the tips brushed against the bundle of nerves deep inside.

 

Stranger: "Scream my name, lovie," Lestrade whispered, brushing the bundles lightly. "Scream it loud."

You: "Greg," Mycroft yelled, his voice echoing back from the tiles. He continued moaning Greg's name, his voice hoarse and wanton. "Harder, please," he begged, looking into Greg's eyes over his shoulder.

Stranger: Lestrade pumped faster and brushed the bundles slightly harder, moving his fingers slowly inside him. He nipped at Mycroft's neck and licked over the damaged skin.

You: Screaming again, Mycroft's felt his hips move in time with Greg's hand. Warmth coiled in his belly and spread out, bringing with it the familiar and delicious tension. He shivered in Greg's arms and surrendered to the overwhelming feelings.

Stranger: "Come for me," Lestrade whispered darkly, running his tongue around the bridge of Mycroft's ear. "I need to feel you all over me."

You: Mycroft threw his head and screamed Greg's name, his orgasm ripping through him. He coated Greg's hand and the wall with the slick fluid. He felt the strength give out in his legs and slid down to the floor of the tub.

Stranger: Lestrade coasted him down gently, pulling his fingers out and releasing his cock. He turned Mycroft so he was sitting against the wall and sat down next to him, the water hitting their legs. He rested his head on his shoulder and took Mycroft's hand, turning it to examine the ring. "Yep, all mine," he smiled.

You: Mycroft smiled back gently, still panting. "Always," he replied, leaning forward to kiss Greg. He tangled his legs with Greg's, the spray of the water sliding down both of them.

Stranger: Lestrade cupped Mycroft's face and smiled as they broke, Mycroft's panting ghosting over his skin. "I love you," he whispered, giving his hand a squeeze.

You: "I love you, Greg," Mycroft murmured. He twined his fingers with Greg's and leaned his forehead against the other man's. He was content to sit there but the drop in temperature of the water convinced him to finish what they came in here for.

Stranger: Lestrade watched as Mycroft stood and held a hand out to him. He took it and stood up, kissing Mycroft lightly before grabbing the soap and filling a hand with the light yellow goo. He ran his hands over Mycroft's chest, smiling as he did so.

You: Mycroft grabbed some more soap and ran his fingers gently over Greg's chest and up to his shoulders. Moving down Greg's arms to his hands, he held them against his chest and kissed him again.

Stranger: "We're never going back to the hospital at this rate," Lestrade joked as Mycroft pulled away and kissed his forehead.

You: "I wish I could spend hours here with you, but you're right," Mycroft sighed, moving his hands over Greg again. He gently pulled the other man under the water with him and sluiced the soap off, lingering over the sensitive spots he'd learned.

Stranger: Lestrade closed his eyes and smiled as his head went under the water, water running into his eyes and hair falling down to brush the tops.

You: Once he made sure Greg was completely clean, Mycroft stepped under the water and rinsed himself off. He wrapped his arms around Greg under the spray and held him, breathing in the scent of soap and Greg.

Stranger: "You really are the best thing that has ever happened to me," Lestrade smiled, running his fingers across Mycroft's shoulders to brush off some stray soap.

You: "And you to me, dearest," Mycroft replied, his tone soft and loving. "I'm so happy you asked me to marry you." He pressed his lips to the pulse point in Greg's throat then pulled away. Turning the water off, he got out of the shower and handed a towel to Greg. "Probably shouldn't help if we want to actually get out of here," Mycroft said, smiling dryly.

Stranger: Lestrade took the towel and wrapped it around Mycroft's shoulders. "Just the top half, then," Lestrade smiled, running soft circles over Mycroft's arms, leaning up to kiss him lightly.

You: "All right," Mycroft smiled, kissing back and tracing his fingers over Greg's arms. He wrapped his arms around Greg's waist and pulled the towel over both of them, laughing quietly at the absurdity of it all.

Stranger: "What's so funny, baby?" Lestrade smiled, tilting up and licking a small drop of water from the corner of Mycroft's mouth.

You: "This," Mycroft said, looking down at them. "We're acting like a couple of lovestruck teenagers who can't keep their hands off each other for five minutes. Though I really can't keep my hands off you unless I have to."

Stranger: "If this is what you call a lovesick teenager, then I will gladly be one. I don't want to keep my hands off you, you're too adorable." Lestrade purred, running his hands down Mycroft's back, almost to his butt, then back up again to his shoulders.

You: Mycroft groaned appreciatively, his back curving into Greg's hands. Which conveniently brought his mouth closer to Greg's. He kissed him, dipping lightly into the other man's mouth before trailing down and nibbling at the skin under his ear. "I think I will too," Mycroft murmured into Greg's ear.

Stranger: "I love you, but we really should go... Any more of this, and you'll be against the wall getting fucked so hard," Lestrade growled, stepping back slightly and finishing drying Mycroft's upper half.

You: "You have no idea how good that sounds," Mycroft said, taking the towel and wrapping it around Greg's waist. "And I intend to do the same to you at my earliest convenience." He grabbed another towel and finished drying the rest of himself, walking out of the bathroom to find clothes.

Stranger: Lestrade followed, rolling the towel up and lashing it out to smack Mycroft on the butt lightly. He laughed as Mycroft flinched and turned to glare at him.

You: Mycroft turned and rolled his eyes. "I think I'm going to ignore that," he said, a smile stealing across his face. "Otherwise we are never going to get out of here. I can think of so many more useful things to do to you with that towel."

Stranger: Lestrade giggled as a blush crept across his face. He turned quickly realizing the sound he had just made, as bent over to look for clothes.

You: Mycroft smirked, already planning what he was going to do to Greg. Though perhaps not necessarily with the towels. They were rather cumbersome. He kept the smirk as he dressed, glancing repeatedly over at Greg.

Stranger: Lestrade stood with clothes in hand and dressed, no rushing. He saw Mycroft glancing at him out of the corner of his eye and saw as he adjusted his jacket, the look in his eye as he stared into the mirror at him hungry. Lestrade shuddered slightly and, before he could do something that would keep them there for hours, made a quick retreat to the hallway and started down to the kitchen. "I'm going to have a quick cup of tea. Want one?" He called over his shoulder.

You: "Yes, please, love," Mycroft called after Greg. He finished dressing quickly, shaking his arms lightly to settle the cuffs of his shirt. He buttoned the cuffs quickly and slipped into a suit jacket, smoothing the lapels over his chest. He went downstairs and wrapped his arms around Greg in the kitchen, placing a light kiss on the nape of his neck.

Stranger: "You want me to take you minutes before you see your brother, don't you?" Lestrade chuckled, tilting his head back in a silently sigh.

You: Mycroft chuckled, the sound obscene in Greg's ears. "Not exactly," Mycroft murmured. "I just want you to be thinking about what I'm going to do when we get back here." He licked along the shell of Greg's ear then released him when the teapot whistled.

Stranger: Lestrade shuttered again, quickly moving to fetch the tea. He poured Mycroft and himself a mug and added what he knew Mycroft wanted in his. He set it on the table and sat down, sipping from his own.

You: Mycroft drank his tea slowly, savoring the flavor and the sweetness. He kept darting hungry glances at Greg, smiling as the other man caught them. He emptied his cup and rose to set it in the sink.

Stranger: Lestrade rose and polished off his mug as well, placing it in the sink next to Mycroft's. "Ready to go?" He asked as Mycroft stepped over to lean on the counter, leaving Mycroft to fill the mugs with water to soak.

You: Mycroft nodded and led the way out of the flat, walking towards his car. He smiled to see Greg's car parked next to his. "My car or yours?" Mycroft asked, turning to look at Greg.

Stranger: "I can drive," Lestrade smiled, pulling a set of keys from his pocket. He unlocked the car and held the passenger door open for Mycroft, smiling.

You: "Thank you, love," Mycroft said as he folded himself into the car. He brushed a hand down Greg's arm as he did and closed the door. He watched Greg walk around the car and get in, taking his hand once he was settled.

Stranger: Lestrade squeezed his hand with a smile and leaned over to kiss Mycroft lightly. "You are too cute," Lestrade whispered before pulling his hand from Mycroft's and starting the car.

You: Mycroft smiled the entire trip, finally completely relaxing the tension that had taken root in his body since he was in Dubai. He watched Greg's hands on the wheel, effortlessly guiding the car through the streets and into the parking lot at Bart's.

Stranger: Lestrade parked the car and leaned back in his seat, shutting the car off. He sighed deeply and frowned up at the building in front of them. "Ironic, isn't it?" He asked softly.

You: "That he was taken here?" Mycroft asked. He sighed and nodded, dragging one hand through his hair. "I have to admit, this whole thing has been difficult on more people than just Sherlock."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded, thinking back to John, and how broken he truly was. He sighed deeply and dropped his head, looking at his hands in his lap. "I hate this," he whispered to his lap.

You: "I do too, love," Mycroft said, placing one hand on Greg's shoulder. "And I'm sorry you have to lie to John. I know it's difficult."

Stranger: "He's just so broken," Lestrade muttered, shrugging. He looked up at Mycroft sadly. "Sherlock needs to go back to him alive... Soon...."

You: "And he will, love," Mycroft reassured him. "Believe me, no one wants him to go back to John more than Sherlock does himself. John was the only thing on his mind after he was shot. John's name was the first thing he said when he woke up."

Stranger: Lestrade scrubbed at his eyes, refusing to cry right now in front of Mycroft. He looked back to the building again with a sigh. There was a reason John mostly avoided this place, now he saw why.

You: Mycroft took Greg's hand again and tugged lightly on it until the other man turned to face him. He had seen what Greg was trying to hide and smiled softly at him. "It's all right," Mycroft told him. "You don't have to hold back with me."

Stranger:Lestrade nodded and looked down again, looking towards Mycroft's lap, where his other hand lay. He didn't care what Mycroft said, he still didn't want to cry. He wanted to stay strong for Mycroft.

You: Mycroft sat there for a few more moments, providing comfort and strength for Greg. He surreptitiously checked his watch and sighed. "I need to go now," Mycroft said sadly. "Molly's shift ends soon."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded and opened his car door. "I'll be fine, I'm sorry," Lestrade unfolded from the car and went around to Mycroft, pulling him into a tight hug.

You: "You don't have to be sorry," Mycroft murmured, hugging him back. "I understand, love." He stepped back sadly and took Greg's hand again. "Will you be staying with me or heading back home to sleep?"

Stranger: "I'm not leaving you," Lestrade said, reaching up to kiss the corners of Mycroft's mouth lightly. "Do I have to call you Joshua or whatever, though?"

You: Pursing his lips, Mycroft thinks about it. "If there's no one else in the room, you can call me by my name. But if anyone else is there, call me Joshua or don't say a name," Mycroft replied.

Stranger: Lestrade nodded with a weak smile. "I love you, Mycroft," he whispered, squeezing his hand lightly. "I know how hard this is for you."

You: "I love you too," Mycroft said, his smile fading. "And this has been difficult, watching you and Sherlock and John suffer. If I could fix it all right now, I would."

Stranger: "I know you would, and you know I would too," Lestrade said, pulling Mycroft closer to him as they walked. "And you know if I could make things easier on you, I would."

You: Mycroft nodded as they walked and let the subject drop. There was really only one way to fix all of this and that was to kill Sebastian Moran. He made a mental note to check on Anthea's progress as he walked through the hospital to Sherlock's room.

Stranger: Lestrade stayed quiet and followed Mycroft to Sherlock's room. He paused outside the door and turned Mycroft towards him. "I love you," he whispered, pulling Mycroft into a soft, quick kiss.

You: Mycroft held his lips for a few seconds then pulled back saying, "And I you, Greg." He took a deep breath, expecting to see Sherlock looking small and vulnerable again, before stepping into the hospital room.

Stranger: Lestrade followed, keeping Mycroft close. Mycroft went over to stand next to Sherlock's bed, and Lestrade watched him gently, only following once he was sure Mycroft had taken in the situation in full. He placed a loving hand on Mycroft's arm and looked down at Sherlock.

You: "He's been sleeping most of the time," Molly said softly from the chair. "He woke up once, asking for John. He fell asleep again, though, before I could answer." Molly stood from the chair carefully, not wanting to wake up Sherlock. She gave the three men a fond smile before saying, "I need to get home, my shift's ending. Good night, Greg, Mycroft."

Stranger: "Thank you, Molly," Lestrade gave her a sad smile, holding out his hand to her. "Good night."

You: She shook Lestrade's hand and nodded at Mycroft when the elder Holmes did nothing but stare morosely at Sherlock. She headed out, sending one last fond look over her shoulder at Sherlock. "I thought he would have woken up for longer by now," Mycroft murmured, one hand reaching out to Greg.

Stranger: "His body needs the rest, it's been hurt," Lestrade said gently, taking the hand and holding it tightly. "He'll wake soon enough."

You: "I hope so," Mycroft said, quietly enough that he didn't think Greg caught it. He just continued to stare down at Sherlock, worry etched onto his face. He'd always tried to protect his little brother, even when Sherlock saw it as an invasion of his privacy. Now he had failed and Sherlock had almost died.

Stranger: "Mycroft..." Lestrade muttered, barely above a breath. He held Mycroft's arm and hand closer. He looked down at Sherlock, his steady breathing and heartbeat relaxed. He couldn't die, he was Sherlock Holmes, John's Sherlock Holmes. The man who could figure everything out just by the way you bloody smelled. This wasn't Mycroft's fault, it was Moriarty's aftermath, something no one could stop.

You: After several minutes, Mycroft finally regained enough control over himself to move over to the chair with Greg. He debated for a moment on who should sit down before shrugging, sitting, and pulling Greg into his lap. He smiled at the disgruntled DI before laying his head against Greg's shoulder.

Stranger: "He'll be alright, you know," Lestrade whispered, running a hand through Mycroft's hair gently. "He's strong."

You: "I know he is," Mycroft muttered. "But he's my brother and I don't want to lose him. Besides, how would I explain that to our mother? I'm supposed to look after him, not get him shot."

Stranger: "It's not your fault, love," Lestrade soothed. "And you won't lose him. I know Sherlock, and he'll be just fine. His body just needs rest."

You: Mycroft nodded and tilted his head to watch Sherlock. He could see the even, easy breathing and strong pulse in Sherlock's neck and knew he wasn't in danger of dying anymore. He was fairly certain his reaction was the typical one that people had once the danger was past and they could fall apart. He breathed deeply, enjoying the sharp scent of Greg's cologne, and felt the tension he'd built up again ebb away.

Stranger: Lestrade felt Mycroft relax a bit and he eased his arm around his shoulders. Lestrade gently rested his head against Mycroft's after kissing the top of his head. "It will all be alright. Everything will be the way it should be," Lestrade whispered, closing his eyes.

You: Mycroft nodded again and closed his eyes, exhaustion piling onto him. He hadn't slept much on the drive back to London and it was hitting him all at once. His head slumped to the side as he fell asleep, soft snores escaping him.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled as he felt Mycroft fall asleep on his shoulder. He was in love with this man and was upset to see him so hurt. To have him sleeping was a relief. Lestrade listened to the deep breathing escaping Mycroft's partly open lips and felt his heart leap when Mycroft starting muttering his name in his sleep.

You: "Greg.... Greg.... don't..." Mycroft murmured, a nightmare overtaking him. "Don't go.... love you too much." He whimpered quietly as the nightmare took a firm hold and he saw Greg walking away from him, a sneer on his face.

Stranger: "Mycroft?" Lestrade asked carefully, unsure of what to do. "I'm here, love."

You: Unconsciously, Mycroft tightened his arms around Greg, the warmth of the man soothing him and edging into the nightmare. It faded away and Mycroft slept deeper, the snores once again resuming.

Stranger: Lestrade kissed the top of Mycroft's head and sighed deeply. "I love you, Mycroft," he whispered, his eyes sweeping down to Mycroft's hand and smiling as he saw the ring glimmering there. "And I'll love you forever."

You: Sherlock cleared his throat quietly, his eyes blinking rapidly. "Water?" he asked, looking blearily at Lestrade and Mycroft.

Stranger: Lestrade didn't want to wake Mycroft, knowing the man needed sleep. Carefully, he sat Mycroft up a little more and made it so he could rest comfortably. He stood and went over to Sherlock, taking the glass of water that sat on his tray. "Can you sit up?" He asked, brushing Sherlock's hand with his fingertips.

You: Sherlock rolled his eyes and struggled to a sitting position. He was gasping by the time he was done, though, his body vehemently telling him that it was not happy. Sherlock reached for the glass and drained it in a few gulps, nodding thankfully at Lestrade.

Stranger: "How are you feeling?" Lestrade asked, keeping his voice low for both Sherlock and Mycroft. He took the glass and placed it on the table.

You: "Groggy," Sherlock replied, grimacing. He stretched his arm out gently, the pull of the stitches and the pain only allowing him to extend halfway. He lowered his arm carefully and focused on Mycroft. "How long has he been here?" he asked.

Stranger: "Only fifteen minutes or so. We went back to the flat and cleaned up a little. He was worried about you, Sherlock," Lestrade said, sitting on the edge of the bed by Sherlock's waist.

You: "How long have I been out? Any news on Moran?" Sherlock continued, looking up into Lestrade's eyes.

Stranger: "On and off for almost four days now. And Moran got away. We lost him after you got shot," Lestrade said, playing with the edge of the blanket draped over Sherlock. "Anthea is searching as we speak." lolz, corr

You: "Good, he's proving to be a far more dangerous opponent than the other snipers," Sherlock growled. He tried to swing his legs over the side of the bed Lestrade wasn't sitting on but only got about halfway before his muscles gave out. Easing back, he rearranged his legs more comfortably underneath the blanket. "So now we just wait."

Stranger: Lestrade sighed as Sherlock shifted, unable to sit still. How John was able to handle this man, he'll never know. Maybe love eased the annoying pain-in-the-ass feeling. He placed a hand on Sherlock's calf. "You have to rest. Even if we do find him, you can't go running after him till you are healed."

You: "I know that," Sherlock snapped, moving his leg away from Lestrade. "Doesn't make it any easier. I hate waiting." Sherlock fidgeted a bit, his fingers tapping out a complicated rhythm. He looked around the room before focusing on Lestrade again. "Have you seen John? How is he?"

Stranger: "I saw him just the other night," Lestrade said, pulling his hand back to rest in his lap. "He is-" Lestrade cut off. Should he tell Sherlock how broken John really was? Was it worth ruining Sherlock over?

You: "He is what?" Sherlock asked sharply, narrowing his eyes at Lestrade. It was easy to read the hesitation and Sherlock could tell he was thinking about lying. "And don't lie. You know I can tell."

Stranger: Lestrade sighed deeply. "He is... broken, at best," Lestrade said slowly. "He is good at hiding it, but I caught him just staring at your old skull. Crying."

You: Sherlock let no emotion show on his face, but inside he felt his heart drop. The skull was one of the things that John tolerated and to have him talking to it was odd. He wondered if John had picked up any of his other habits. "But he's done nothing to hurt himself?" Sherlock asked.

Stranger: Lestrade shook his head, feeling tears threaten at the back of his eyes at the thought of the broken John. "Nothing," he voice cracked and he looked away.

You: "Good," Sherlock nodded decisively. "Thank you for sending me his novel. It was interesting." He tapped a finger against his lips as he thought of the chapters he'd read, eager to know how it ended.

Stranger: "Welcome," Lestrade said, his voice threatening to crack. His eyes swept over the sleeping Mycroft, and they landed on that ring again.

You: "I see you proposed officially," Sherlock stated, following Lestrade's gaze. "And Mycroft accepted. Congratulations."

Stranger: "Thank you," Lestrade said, a sad smile crossing his face. "You know, he wants to wait on the wedding. I asked John to be my best man, and he said he wanted you to be his."

You: Sherlock's eyes widened slightly, surprise in them. "Me?" he repeated. "Why would Mycroft want me as his best man? We haven't had the best of relationships."

Stranger: "So? You're still his brother. He wants you next to him because you're important to him," Lestrade's smile grew fuller.

You: Sherlock laughed dryly, staring at Mycroft. "I suppose we've gotten closer over the past several months. One might even say cordial," Sherlock said. He rolled his shoulders, trying to ease the pain in his right one.

Stranger: "Are you alright?" Lestrade asked, his brow creasing. "Do you feel pain?"

You: Sherlock glared at Lestrade before the tightness in his shoulder caused him to roll his shoulders again. "A bit," he finally allowed.

Stranger: "Want me to call a nurse and get some pain killer for you?" Lestrade asked carefully, nodding towards the button on the wall.

You: Sherlock nodded tightly as more pain ripped through him. He stretched his leg carefully, trying to move as little as possible.

Stranger: Lestrade stood and went over to press the button. He sat back down as a nurse came into the room. "Can we get some pain killers? His shoulder is bothering him," Lestrade asked, smiling at the nurse, who hurried from the room with a nod.

You: The nurse came back with a syringe and quickly injected it into Sherlock's IV. She checked the IV and the other machines before placing a note in Sherlock's chart and leaving the room. Lestrade waited a few minutes, watching Sherlock's face, before asking, "Better?"

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and relaxed back into the pillows a little. "I'm guessing Mycroft wants to talk to me when he wakes?" He asked, completely changing the subject.

You: "Probably," Lestrade nodded. "Even if it's just to make sure you're ok. He's really beating himself up about it."

Stranger: "Why?" Sherlock questioned, looking over to his brother. "He had no say in the matter. It was entirely on me."

You: "He's your older brother, you git," Lestrade said fondly, glancing over at Mycroft. "He feels responsible for your safety."

Stranger: "It's not like it's his job. I can look after myself." Sherlock said, his words bitter but his subtext thankful. "I'm just glad it was me, though, and not him."

You: Lestrade glanced back at him and chuckled quietly. "Don't take this the wrong way, but I am too," he said. "I don't want anything happening to Mycroft. And as an older brother, it kind of is his job. Older siblings almost always look after the youngest."

Stranger: "I'm glad he found someone to care for him. Actually give him love," Sherlock's voice was getting quieter, his eyes trained on Mycroft's sleeping face. "Older brother or not, it's not his job. I should be the one caring for him. He had already done his fair share, it should be my turn."

You: "So do so," Lestrade said, turning back to Sherlock. "Don't let the change in your relationship fade away. Mycroft was happy that you both were finally getting along." Hearing Mycroft move, Lestrade got up from the bed to stand near Mycroft, one hand on his shoulder.

Stranger: Sherlock watched as Mycroft woke, smiling up at Lestrade as soon as he saw him and placing a hand on top of Lestrade's. They really did love each other, that much was obvious. This was what was better for him.

You: Mycroft rubbed his eyes with his other hand then looked over at the bed. He smiled at Sherlock, saying, "Good to see you awake, little brother. How are you feeling?"

Stranger: Sherlock nodded, trying to smile back as best he could. "Better, thanks."

You: "Good," Mycroft said, twining his fingers with Greg's. "Once you're fully recovered, you can go back to hunting Moran. But until then, you need to leave it to us."

Stranger: Sherlock opened his mouth to protest but didn't even get a chance to take a breath before he was cut off by Lestrade.

You: "Mycroft, if you think you are going after him by yourself, think again," Lestrade warned. "You don't have any training and it's been pure luck and Sherlock's knowledge that you haven't been injured worse. If anything turns up, you will tell me."

Stranger: Mycroft stood and took Lestrade's shoulders. "I'm not dragging you into this, you are in enough danger as it is," Mycroft said seriously. "I can handle myself, training or not."

You: "Have you had police training?" Lestrade demanded, looking deep into Mycroft's eyes. "Do you know how to follow someone without them knowing? Do you know how to infiltrate and clear a building?"

Stranger: "Well... I... No, but-" Mycroft stuttered, shocked at the determination and slight frustration in Lestrade's eyes.

You: "You would just be putting yourself in danger if you went alone," Lestrade continued, cutting Mycroft with a finger to his lips. "I want you to tell me if you get any lead on Moran. And if Sherlock's not better by then, I'll go with you."

Stranger: "Greg, no..." Mycroft shook his head, sighing deeply. "I'm not putting you into danger. You mean too much to me. What if you get hurt; what if you end up here instead?! No."

You: "Then I'll just have to keep an eye on you at all times," Lestrade shrugged. "Because I at least have the training to help not end up injured."

Stranger: "I can care for myself, you know?" Mycroft frowned, pulling Lestrade closer a step. "I know you have the training, but I love you too much to risk your life further." Mycroft ignored the snort and obvious eye roll from Sherlock behind him.

You: "But you've never gone after an ex-military sniper on your own before," Lestrade argued, also ignoring the snort from Sherlock. This was too important to let anyone interrupt. "I'm a police officer, Mycroft. Danger is part of my job and I know how to handle it."

Stranger: "I just..." Mycroft paused and looked down at his hands, holding Lestrade's. "I can't lose you, Greg." It was barely above a whisper.

You: "You aren't going to," Lestrade said, his voice softer. "You always came back to me. I'm going to come back to you." He smiled at Mycroft, hoping that his fiance would stop arguing and accept what he considered the inevitable.

Stranger: Mycroft sighed and pulled Lestrade into a tight hug. "I love you," he whispered, squeezing him tighter.

You: "I know, Mycroft," Lestrade whispered back. "I love you too. That's why I won't let you do this alone."

Stranger: Mycroft pulled back and caught Lestrade's lips in a long, slow kiss. He ignore the groan from Sherlock behind him, and snickered as Sherlock muttered, "Oh come on."

You: Lestrade held the kiss for several moments, one hand moving to rest gently on the back of Mycroft's neck. He'd been frustrated and annoyed several times over the years by Sherlock and it amused him to annoy the detective back.

Stranger: Mycroft took Lestrade's hips and pulled them against him. He didn't care about his brother watching, he was fine and that's what mattered. He pulled back from Lestrade for only half a second before claiming his lips again. He didn't want to stop.

You: "You both need to get your own room," Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. When his words had no effect, he decided to press the nurse's call button. He chuckled quietly at the look on the nurse's face when she walked in.

Stranger: Mycroft broke apart from Lestrade and cleared his throat, casting Sherlock a dirty look. "W-what do you need, sir?" The nurse asked, trying to keep her eyes on Sherlock, but kept glancing at Lestrade and Mycroft. "Nothing," Mycroft told her bitterly. "I assure you, that was just my friend being the pest he can be. I do apologize."

You: The nurse looked at all three men in turn, the disbelief clear in her eyes. "I could use some more painkillers," Sherlock finally said. "I don't think the first dose was strong enough." The nurse nodded and left the room to get some more.

Stranger: "Child!" Mycroft shot him as soon as the nurse left the room. He moved to take Lestrade's hand and pull him over to him.

You: "I'm not the one snogging someone else in my brother's room," Sherlock retorted, rolling his eyes yet again. "I think I'm fully awake now. Feel free to head back to your flat if you're going to continue."

Stranger: "You know, we're here for you. I'm sorry we can actually enjoy each other's company. Just because you can't be with John doesn't mean we can't be happy!" Mycroft snapped, his grip tightening on Lestrade.

You: "That's not at all what I meant Mycroft," Sherlock said softly, staring intently at his brother. "I meant that I'd rather not watch you two all over each other in front of me. Be as happy as you like." Sherlock looked away then, clenching his teeth together.

Stranger: Mycroft's heart dropped as he watched his brother's eyes begin to water. He let go of Lestrade and moved to go sit on the edge of Sherlock's bed. "Sherlock, I am sorry. I did not mean to- I should not have-" Mycroft stuttered, watching Sherlock avoid his eyes and pull the arm Mycroft had tried to touch away from him.

You: "Forget it." Sherlock growled, still not meeting Mycroft's eyes. He crossed his arms over his chest and continued trying to ignore his brother and Lestrade.

Stranger: "Sherlock-" He cut off when the nurse came back in. He watched as the nurse injected the medication into the IV and noted it in his records. She left with a small nod to Sherlock.

You: Sherlock shifted enough so that he could grab his chart from the end of the bed and read over the notes quickly. He saw that the painkiller the nurse had give him this time was one that was likely to put him to sleep. "I'm probably going to be falling asleep soon," Sherlock told Mycroft, placing the chart back. "You don't need to sit here and watch me sleep. That sounds rather creepy actually, so you should go home."

Stranger: "Sherlock... I am sorry... Please do not be mad..." Mycroft said slowly, trying to reach for Sherlock's arm again.

You: "I said forget about it," Sherlock said, moving his arm away again. "I do not like repeating myself." He turned his head to look at Mycroft, not bothering to hide the pain in his eyes. It seemed that John truly did humanize him.

Stranger: "Sherlock, I didn't mean it," Mycroft said, looking up at Greg.

You: Sherlock finally nodded and sighed. "Fine," he said, his voice still quiet. "You didn't mean it and I forgive you. Better?"

Stranger: Mycroft stayed silent and looked down at Sherlock, nodding. "Thank you," he said, reaching for Sherlock again.

You: Sherlock let Mycroft take his arm, remembering how he'd enjoyed being somewhat close to his brother again. He managed a small smile at the relief on Mycroft's face.

Stranger: Mycroft watched as Sherlock yawned and smiled over at Lestrade. "Do you want anything before we go and let you sleep?"

You: Sherlock thought for a moment, the painkillers slowing his mind a bit. "Not right now, but if you could bring me my laptop, that would be good." He nodded at Mycroft and Lestrade, settling down onto the bed.

Stranger: "Okay, we'll be back tomorrow morning, alright?" Mycroft said, standing and moving over to Lestrade, watching Sherlock. "I'm glad you're okay, Sherlock. I really am."

You: "Yes, tomorrow," Sherlock yawned. "And I know. I'm glad it wasn't you injured this time." Sherlock yawned again and his eyes fluttered closed. Before Lestrade and Mycroft could even leave the room, the detective was sound asleep.

Stranger: "Night, Sherlock," Lestrade said, shutting the door to the room and re-taking Mycroft's hand. "You two really have a... different relationship. You know that?" He laughed, pulling Mycroft closer and also taking his arm.

You: Mycroft twined his fingers with Greg's and nodded. "Yes, we really do," he said. "But it's getting better. We're talking without fighting most of the time now." They walked through the hospital, heading back towards the entrance.

Stranger: "Well, that's good then," Lestrade smiled and climbed back into his car. He pulled Mycroft into his arms as he got in after him. "I love you so much."

You: Mycroft allowed himself to be held, holding Greg's arms around him. He still felt bad about throwing the fact that he still couldn't go to John in Sherlock's face, though it was slightly alleviated by the fact that Sherlock, at least on the surface, forgave him. "I love you, too," Mycroft said around a yawn. "Though I think Sherlock has the right idea with sleep."

Stranger: "Then when we get home, will you lay down with me? I've missed you so much and sleep isn't the same without you," Lestrade snuggled closer and kissed Mycroft's cheek.

You: "Of course," Mycroft replied, smiling gently. "I want you next to me when I sleep." He squeezed Greg's hand and placed a soft kiss on his lips.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled as Mycroft pulled back, and he cuddled closer, watching out the window at the passing cars leaving the parking lot around them. His head was rested against Mycroft's chest, and he could hear the steady beating of his heart.

You: Mycroft threaded his fingers through Greg's hair, enjoying the silky feeling on his fingers. He moved his fingers down to cup the back of Greg's neck and hold him gently. "You're amazing, love," Mycroft whispered. "You mean so much to me."

Stranger: Lestrade smiled and leaned over to peck Mycroft's lips. "You mean the world to me, Mycroft. I'm glad you agreed to be mine forever. I can't get over how happy I am."

You: "Neither can I," Mycroft replied, catching Greg's lips in a longer kiss. "But we should really get back if you don't want to be half asleep at work." He kissed Greg's forehead then sat back, trailing his fingers over Greg's neck and down his arm to take his hand.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled and started the car. He squeezed Mycroft's hand before sliding it free and taking the wheel. He pulled out of the parking lot and started down the road.

You: "What time of year were you thinking for the wedding?" Mycroft asked suddenly, not wanting silence on this drive. "Inside or outside?"

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled. "You're so cute, love," he said, before thinking. "Maybe spring? Or fall? An outside wedding and inside reception? What were you thinking?"

You: "I hadn't had any particular ideas," Mycroft said, smiling at Greg. "Though I like the idea of fall. An outside wedding under the trees?"

Stranger: "That would be beautiful," Lestrade smiled back, his heart picking up at Mycroft's breath-taking smile. He looked back at the road, willing his breathing to become less of a pant.

You: "I think something small would be perfect. Close friends and family," Mycroft mused. "Everyone who mattered would be there and no extraneous people."

Stranger: "That sounds perfect," Lestrade said, thinking of who to invite. "Though not many people will be there from my family. I don't have many close relatives or anything."

You: "I have Sherlock and our mother," Mycroft said. "It's probably going to be a very small ceremony." He looked out the window then, noticing that they were almost back to the flat.

Stranger: "That's fine with me. I was never comfortable in front of large crowds where all the attention was on me and whatever I was doing," Lestrade laughed, turning into the parking lot to park his car. "I'm fine with just Sherlock, John, Mrs. Hudson, your mother, and maybe my cousin Abby being all who's there. As long as you're the one next to me."

You: "All right," Mycroft nodded happily. After Greg had turned the car off, Mycroft took his hand and kissed the back of it. He smiled into Greg's eyes and was surprised when a yawn overtook him again. "Looks like I really need sleep," Mycroft said, laughing a bit.

Stranger: "I said it before, and I will say it again, you are so cute," Lestrade smiled, leaning over to catch Mycroft's lips.

You: Mycroft kissed back, keeping the kiss light and affectionate. He squeezed Greg's hand as he pulled away then untwined his fingers so that he could get out of the car. He waited for Greg to follow before walking up to the flat.

Stranger: Lestrade followed Mycroft and shut the door behind them as they entered the flat. He smiled when Mycroft turned to him.

You: "Much as I would like to spend more time with you tonight," Mycroft said, moving to wrap an arm around Greg. "I need sleep. Come with me?"

Stranger: Lestrade nodded and allowed himself to be gently led to the bedroom. He went over to Mycroft and tugged at his shirt. "We don't need clothes do we?" he asked with a smile.

You: Mycroft didn't reply, just let Greg unbutton and slide off his shirt. He did the same for the DI and moved back a step to take his own pants off. When he was done, he slid into bed, lifting the covers invitingly.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled and took his own pants off and sliding into bed with Mycroft. He pulled Mycroft close and kissed the top of his head. "I love you," he whispered with a tight hug.

You: "I love you, too," Mycroft yawned, placing a kiss on Greg's forehead. He could feel sleep creeping up and closed his eyes as he twined his fingers with Greg's again. After one last yawn, sleep claimed him.

\---------------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: Sherlock, will you be ready to leave the hospital at noon? -MH

You: Yes I will. Would rather you get here sooner than that, though. - SH

Stranger: Well, it's already ten now. Just wait. The practice can do you wonders. -MH

You: Sure it could. And you've enjoyed leaving me in this place for a month, haven't you? - SH

Stranger: Sherlock, come on. You know I haven't enjoyed it. -MH

You: I haven't either. The nurses are incompetent, the doctors barely better, and it's BORING. Two more hours is going to be interminable. - SH

Stranger: You will survive. Besides, the nurses won't let me take you out till noon, so you would be stuck there anyways. Surf the Internet, read John's old blogs, you'll find something. Why don't you read some more of John's book? -MH

You: I've already finished what Lestrade sent me. Really, Mycroft, you think I couldn't finish a book in a month?

Stranger: I didn't know you had continued reading it. How was it? I had yet to finish it. -MH

You: It was... good. Surprisingly so. John really has a gift for words that is sadly lacking in his blog. - SH

Stranger: I didn't think his blog "lacked" anything. -MH

You: You ever read the titles he gave his stories? And it doesn't matter anymore. He never updates his blog now. See you at noon, Mycroft. - SH

Stranger: See you then. -MH

You: Sherlock dropped his phone on the bed with a long-suffering sigh, wishing it was noon already. He'd been tired of the hospital since the second day here and he was just glad his laptop was here to alleviate some of the boredom. That and John's novel. With frequent glances at the clock, Sherlock opened the document that contained John's words and, Sherlock was coming to suspect, John's soul.

Stranger: Mycroft sat in Greg's office, going to work with him today so they could both go get Sherlock from the hospital when noon had come around. He opened his laptop, intending on reading some more of John's novel. He glanced up as the document opened and watched Greg, typing furiously at the keyboard. His features and muscles were tense and Mycroft could tell he was having trouble typing whatever it was he was working on.

You: "Damn it!" Lestrade finally exclaimed, pounding on the desk with one hand in annoyance. "I've already filled that out. Why do you keep telling me its incomplete?" He pushed the report he was typing from away and scowled at the computer.

Stranger: Mycroft frowned, standing and moving over behind Greg. He placed his hands on Greg's shoulders and started massaging them carefully, relieving the tension that built up in them. "Relax, love," Mycroft soothed, digging his thumbs into the muscles to relax them. "I hate seeing you so frustrated."

You: "I could bloody well relax if my bloody computer wasn't such a waste of machine space," Lestrade griped, still glaring at the machine. The tension in his shoulders slowly faded as Mycroft massaged them, careful and gentle rubbing over his back.

Stranger: "Tell me what's wrong, love," Mycroft whispered, kissing Lestrade's cheek. "Maybe I can help." He ran his hands down Greg's arms, then up his back and back to his shoulders, where he continued to work the knots out of them.

You: "I'm trying to finish the last of this paperwork in time to get to the hospital so I can take the rest of the day off," Lestrade answered. "I want to be there in case you need me for anything. And this report just keeps disappearing."

Stranger: "May I?" Mycroft asked, motioning to the desktop and raising his eyebrows.

You: "Have at it, love," Lestrade said, standing from his chair. "I'm going to get some coffee before I smash the bloody thing. You want anything?"

Stranger: "Coffee would be nice, love," Mycroft smiled as he caught Greg's lips for a quick kiss as he stood. "Go to the bathroom and run some cold water over your face, you need it."

You: Lestrade looked quizzically at Mycroft but nodded and walked out of his office. He decided to go to the bathroom first and ran the cold water. When it was as cold as he could stand, Lestrade splashed some on his face, hissing a bit at the cold. After he'd dried off, he headed to the vending machine and got two coffees.

Stranger: Mycroft sat down at the computer and scrolled down the page. He read all the little side notes and things that the document had as "check off if you want-". At the bottom of the page, under the submit button, was a unchecked box that read "save all changes before submitting." Mycroft smiled and laughed a little, checking the box and pressing submit. Sure enough, the screen flashed "submit received." "Oh, Greg," Mycroft laughed quietly. "You must really be tired."

Stranger: "I did, in fact," Mycroft said, standing and moving around to help Greg with the coffees. He kissed Lestrade gently and smiled at him. "It's submitted now, so you don't need to worry, love."

You: "Good. Thanks, love," Lestrade said happily, glancing at the clock. It read 10:52 am. "I've got one more report to finish and then we can go."

Stranger: "Okay darling," Mycroft said, stirring his coffee and watching Greg move around to sit at his desk once again. "I'm here if you need me. Talk to me if you get too angry, you know I hate seeing you that way." Mycroft went to re-take his seat with his laptop.

You: Lestrade took his seat again, giving Mycroft a smile. He started typing again and filled out the details from the report quickly. This time he reread everything carefully and found the box at the bottom of the page to save everything. He sighed as he clicked it, realizing that's what he'd forgotten earlier. "Done," Lestrade announced, closing down the program.

Stranger: "Great! We still have around forty-five minutes till we have to get Sherlock. Want to grab a quick lunch on the way?" Mycroft asked, standing and closing his laptop, tucking it under his arm.

You: "Sure," Lestrade said, standing and stretching. He could hear his back popping but it felt really good. "What are you in the mood for? Maybe Chinese?"

Stranger: "Sounds wonderful," he smiled, taking his coat and handing Greg his.

You: Lestrade shrugged into his coat and led the way out of his office after Mycroft had put his on. He had driven today so headed down to the garage that employees parked in.

Stranger: Mycroft followed suit, stepping up next to Greg to take his hand and hold it gently. He kept silent, glancing over at Greg's face to catch those brilliant sparkling eyes looking around.

You: Lestrade found his car quickly since he had a reserved parking space. He opened the door for Mycroft, grinning at the raised eyebrow. Once his fiance was in the car, he closed the door and head over to his own side.

Stranger: Lestrade turned the car on and backed out of the space, pulling out onto the road and starting towards their favorite Chinese place that was, luckily, on the way to the hospital. They drove in silence for a long while.

You: "Do you think you can find any trace of Moran?" Mycroft asked softly, staring out the window. He remembered how difficult it was to find the man in the first place and despaired that they could do it again.

Stranger: Lestrade sighed, thinking deeply. "It's possible, but I can't make any promises that I can very soon," Lestrade said, with a tired shake of his head. "He could be anywhere and I don't know where to start. It could take a long while before we even get a hint."

You: "I have Anthea on it as well. She is excellent at finding trails," Mycroft replied. "Though I am worried that I may have to pull John into this just to find Moran again."

Stranger: "Please, refrain from that as long as you can," Lestrade said, glancing at Mycroft. "He doesn't need anything more on his plate."

You: "I know and I wouldn't do it unless that's the only way," Mycroft sighed. "But they worked together in Afghanistan. If anyone could pull him out of hiding, I bet John could."

Stranger: "But remember, he's not stable. We don't know if he would attack John or not," Lestrade noted as he pulled into the parking lot. "We don't want John killed just to pull Moran out of hiding."

You: "No that would be terrible," Mycroft said, shaking his head. "And I'm pretty sure Sherlock would find some way of making my life hell if anything at all happened to John. But that is the absolute last resort."

Stranger: "I'm pretty sure Sherlock would murder you if you let anything happen to John," Lestrade frowned as he shut off the car. "Which means he would have to kill me, too."

You: "Let's hope it doesn't come to that," Mycroft said, laughing softly. He got out of the car and waited for Greg to catch up to him before walking into the restaurant.

Stranger: Lestrade followed Mycroft to their table and sat down across from him, picking up the menu. "I'm sure we can work Moran out of hiding with some time. Everyone makes a mistake, and when he does, we'll be there to catch him."

You: "Yes it will just take time. But do we really have all that much?" Mycroft asked, glancing at the menu and deciding quickly what he wanted. "John sees to be holding it together for now but I'm sure the time is coming when he won't be able to anymore."

Stranger: Lestrade lowered the menu and looked up at Mycroft. "W-Why do you say that?" He asked quietly.

You: "From what you've let slip about him, he seems to be holding on by a thread," Mycroft explained. "And that thread is his book."

Stranger: "So you think when he finishes it-" Lestrade cut off, not wanting to think about what John may do.

You: "No, I don't think he's going to try hurting himself again," Mycroft said. "But mentally? There's a whole can of worms, to use a messy metaphor, that could go wrong."

Stranger: Lestrade bothered his bottom lip, deep in thought. "I'll try to keep him busy as much as I can, if you don't mind me taking him to dinner just to get out of the flat and all... Maybe that could help?"

You: Mycroft pondered that for a moment, trying to decide if that would be enough. "Yes, I can do that," he finally said. "Though if you could get him involved with cases again, give him some of the danger he craves, that might help too."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded, "I'll try to get him on one as soon as he's done with the book."

You: When the server came up to their table, they ordered and then sat in silence sipping their tea. Finally, Mycroft said, "Do you know if John has any plans to get it published? What I read of it was very good."

Stranger: "We talked about it before and he mentioned something about trying," Lestrade nodded, reaching his foot across under the table and wrapping it around Mycroft's ankle, just to have contact. "Maybe you could help a little? Call in a favor or whatever? If you have someone in that area that owes you, of course."

You: "I'm sure I do, somewhere," Mycroft replied, smiling at the contact. "But are you sure it should get published because someone owed me a favor? I can't help but think that John would want it to stand on its own merits." Their food was placed on the table and Mycroft started eating while Greg thought about his question.

Stranger: "Keep it as last resort, how's that? I agree he should try himself, but just in case..." Lestrade trailed off and took a bite of his food. "How far are you?"

You: Mycroft thought about what he'd read of John's book, slowly eating. "Probably about three quarters of the way through what John gave you," he finally said. "John is a very smooth writer."

Stranger: "He really is," Lestrade smiled. "It just flows from the page seemingly. Have you asked Sherlock what he thought of it?"

You: "I did. He said he enjoyed it but wished that John wrote his blog better," Mycroft said, laughing quietly. "He can never give a compliment without an insult at the same time."

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled. "Oh God, Sherlock bloody Holmes. Would it kill him to just leave it at something nice?" Lestrade shook his head with a smile. "John does good work on both his blog and his novel. That's that."

You: "I agree," Mycroft said, eating some more of his Chinese. "Sometimes John's blog was the only way I could keep track of Sherlock and his... activities. And it was enlightening reading about my brother from someone else's point of view."

Stranger: "He also made some things just kind of funny. Just the thoughts and comments he added in," Lestrade smiled, chewing a piece of chicken. "I read a few of the cases even I worked on and was there with them, and I was laughing!"

You: "He could always personalize Sherlock as well," Mycroft mused. "In between the laughter and the chases and the fights, you could see the human side of Sherlock, the heart that John brought out."

Stranger: "I can't wait to get those two back together," Lestrade said, smiling into his food as he played with a pea with his chopsticks. "There was always this twinkle in John's eye when Sherlock was around. Ever since Sherlock left him, that twinkle died."

You: "I know what you mean," Mycroft mused, putting down his chopsticks since he was no longer hungry. "The first time I met John, he was every inch the soldier protecting Sherlock. He'd barely known him for a day and already was devoted to him."

Stranger: "Those two are just so perfect together," Lestrade smiled up at Mycroft. "Like us."

You: Mycroft smiled back and reached out to run his fingers over Greg's hand. "We are now, aren't we?" he asked.

Stranger: "I think we are," Lestrade said, taking Mycroft's hand in his own and smiling widely. "Er, at least, I think you're perfect for me."

You: "And you for me, love," Mycroft replied. "Don't be so self-conscious about this." He continued brushing his fingers over Greg's hand, moving up to his wrist and resting gently on his pulse.

Stranger: "Self-conscious?" Lestrade repeated, tilting his head slightly and smiling a little at Mycroft. "How so?"

You: "You seem like you expect me to reject you if you say something too cuddly or sweet," Mycroft explained. "I'm not going to do that. I love you."

Stranger: Lestrade blushed slightly, avoiding Mycroft's eyes. "I love you too, and sorry. I don't know why I do that... I just... I don't know."

You: "It's all right, love," Mycroft said quietly. "You don't have to know why you do it. I just want you to know you don't have to." He finished off his tea after he finished speaking and smiled at Greg again.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled back and polished of his tea as well. He placed the cup back down and stared into Mycroft's eyes, they were so deep and beautiful he lost himself almost at once in them.

You: Mycroft met Greg's gaze and held it, a thousand thoughts spoken without words. This was one of the many reasons he loved Greg Lestrade. This silence that was filled with everything they didn't say and was perfect.

Stranger: Lestrade's heart jumped at the look Mycroft was giving him and warmth pooled in his stomach. Now was not the time to be getting hard. He squeezed Mycroft's hand gently and had the suddenly overwhelming urge to just kiss him for hours on end.

You: Mycroft held their for a few more moments and then reluctantly looked away at the check on their table. "We should probably get going," he said quietly. "Sherlock is probably driving the nurses absolutely crazy."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded and grabbed the check before Mycroft could reach for it. "My treat today, babe," he said, standing.

You: "All right, love," Mycroft agreed. He waited until Greg walked away then left a tip on the table and followed him.

Stranger: Lestrade paid the bill as Mycroft came up behind him. Lestrade smiled and took Mycroft's hand as he came to stand at the counter next to him.

You: Mycroft twined his fingers with Greg as they stood there until a soft beeping from his watch alerted Mycroft it was 11:45. "We should go," Mycroft said again. "15 minutes until Sherlock probably checks himself out and runs out of there wearing a hospital gown."

Stranger: Lestrade looked at Mycroft, trying to hold back the laughter. "Hun, that was not a mental image I needed to see," Lestrade smiled as they moved out to the car.

You: Mycroft laughed warmly, the image running through his mind. And the funniest part was Sherlock would do it. The man had no sense of modesty. "Then we'd better hurry," Mycroft said, drawing Greg after him. "Or you may see more of him than you bargained for."

Stranger: "Oh dear," Lestrade laughed as they got into the car. "Again, the mental image I can do without, love."

You: Mycroft just smirked devilishly as Greg drove and checked his watch every few seconds. By 11:55, they were pulling into the hospital parking lot and Mycroft's phone beeped a text message.

Stranger: Are you guys coming or not? -SH

You: Yes, Sherlock. We just parked in the parking lot. Be patient, little brother. Besides, I still have 5 minutes before I'm considered late. - MH

Stranger: Four now. Just hurry up, please? -SH

You: We're on our way - MH. Mycroft laughed as he slipped his phone back into his pocket and turned to Greg. "Sherlock is getting rather impatient," he explained.

Stranger: "Figures, it is Sherlock," Lestrade chuckled as he took Mycroft's hand and started towards the hospital in front of them.

You: They walked through the hospital up to Sherlock's room in time to hear the annoyed detective yell a nurse out of the room. Mycroft and Greg walked in, Mycroft giving his brother a condescending smile. "Making friends are we?" he asked, sarcasm threading through his voice.

Stranger: "These idiots don't know how to do a bloody thing around here. Are they really this clueless?!" Sherlock asked, pacing the room in the hospital dressing.

You: "Not all of them are idiots," Mycroft said, hiding a smile as Sherlock paced. "You should get dressed so you can get out of here."

Stranger: "Did you bring clothes? I have none," Sherlock said, stopping his pacing and turning to Mycroft. "You took the dirty ones home a month ago."

You: Lestrade held up a duffel bag that he'd carried from the car while Mycroft looked sheepish. "I brought you some," Lestrade said cheerfully, tossing the bag on the bed.

Stranger: "Thank you, Lestrade," Sherlock said, taking the bag and slamming the door to the bathroom behind him. He emerged a minute later, fixing the neckline on the t-shirt.

You: "You look nothing like yourself," Mycroft observed quietly. It still jarred him to see Sherlock out of his impeccably tailored suits. And without his giant black coat.

Stranger: "I guess I should thank you for that," Sherlock said, the distaste obvious in his tone. "I hate looking so... normal!"

You: "It will keep you alive," Lestrade interjected. "And that's what we all want in the end. You can handle looking normal for a little while longer."

Stranger: Sherlock ran his hands through his short hair. It had started to grow out and really needed a re-dying. "I know, I know..."

You: They were interrupted by a bored-looking nurse walking in with a clipboard. She held it out to Sherlock, a look of annoyance crossing her features. Mycroft deduced that this was one person Sherlock had ticked off here, mostly due to her rather large collection of cats.

Stranger: Sherlock signed the papers and shoved the clipboard back into her arms, all but kicking her out of the room at once. He turned to Mycroft, "Can we go now?" He whined, raising an eyebrow.

You: "After you, dear brother," Mycroft said wryly, standing aside and gesturing grandly at the door.

Stranger: Sherlock brushed swiftly past Mycroft and Lestrade, heading to the front of the hospital quickly. Lestrade took Mycroft's hand and followed, pulling Mycroft close as they walked, kissing his shoulder gently. "I know he's a handful," he whispered, smiling up at Mycroft. "He's lucky to have such a good older brother."

You: "And he runs me ragged trying to keep him in one piece," Mycroft griped, giving Greg a fond smile. "But he is my brother and I do care for him." He couldn't help but laugh as Sherlock bulled his way through a group of nurses, trading glares with them.

Stranger: "You can never complain that life with Sherlock Holmes as your brother is boring," Lestrade laughed, keeping his voice low when he said the name. "And to think, he'll be my brother-in-law soon... God..."

You: "And isn't that going to be interesting for you when he gets back on cases?" Mycroft said, the smile on his face getting wider. "Though, he may go the other way and ignore you the way he tried to with me."

Stranger: "I hope not," Lestrade frowned, watching after Sherlock. "I need him on cases..."

You: Mycroft rubbed Greg's shoulder soothingly, understanding the need to solve cases. "And he'll probably try to get back to them as quickly as possible," Mycroft told him. "He lives for his work, you know. He'll probably just try to continue avoiding me."

Stranger: They paused outside the hospital doors and Lestrade rocked up to peck Mycroft on the lips. "Who knows," Lestrade whispered, going up to nibble on Mycroft's ear. "Maybe that'll change. You seem to get along.... better."

You: Mycroft watched Sherlock walking away, wondering if things would continue as they have. "I can only hope," Mycroft finally said. "It would be nice to have a brother again. And Mummy would be thrilled."

Stranger: "I'll help if I can, love," Lestrade said, going down to kiss Mycroft's neck, his free hand taking Mycroft's hip. "God, you're delicious. When can I have you again?" Lestrade growled.

You: Mycroft leaned into the touch and closed his eyes, completely forgetting for a moment that they were in a parking lot following after Sherlock. "Later tonight?" Mycroft said, opening his eyes and pressing a kiss to Greg's forehead.

Stranger: "Can't wait," Lestrade growled, digging his nails into Mycroft's hip. "Though, if I could, I would have you right here, in this parking lot, right now."

You: "And the arrest yourself and me for public indecency," Mycroft laughed. He placed his hands on Greg's hips and held him close but not close enough to touch. "Besides, anticipation makes the game all the more fun."

Stranger: "I know, I just want you so bad," Lestrade smiled, his eyes scanning Mycroft and pausing on the bulge that had started to form there.

You: "Public street not much better than my hospital room," Sherlock called back, lounging against Greg's car and glaring at them.

Stranger: Lestrade sighed, rolling his eyes. He leaned up to kiss Mycroft quickly, giving the bulge a quick palm. He pulled back with a smile and let go. "Sherlock awaits," Lestrade smiled as he watched Mycroft struggle with his growing erection. "Come on, love."

You: Mycroft let his mind wander to the immense stacks of paperwork currently adorning his desk and felt himself calm down. Greg knew by now how to hit each one of his buttons. "Maybe you won't have to wait until tonight, love," Mycroft murmured before started walking to Greg's car.

Stranger: Lestrade unlocked his car and Sherlock climbed in, himself getting into the driver's seat. He waited for Mycroft to catch up and started the car as he got in. "To Molly's, then?" He asked, pulling out of the lot.

Yes: "Yes," Sherlock said shortly, wincing lightly at the lingering pain, even after a month. "Then you two can go back to being clingy by yourselves."

Stranger: Lestrade blushed lightly and smiled. "I think we may just do that. That is, if you don't need anything. You come first."

You: "There are two things I need, both of which require time," Sherlock replied, glaring out the window at the passing cars. "Just drop me at Molly's please and call me as soon as you have any more information on Moran."

Stranger: Lestrade, pretty sure he knew what Sherlock needed, nodded, turning down the next road to start towards Molly's. They drove in silence most of the way there.

You: Sherlock tapped his fingers against his knee impatiently, just wanting to get on with finding Moran. He wondered briefly if he could use what remained of the IOU network to find him, but he believed Moran was the only one left. He breathed a quiet sigh of relief when Lestrade stopped outside Molly's flat.

Stranger: "Want us to come up with you, little brother?" Mycroft asked, watching Sherlock wince as he stood out of the car.

You: "No," Sherlock replied, glancing back at Mycroft. "Thank you though." He added on, noting the slight look of hurt on his brother's face. He knew how much Mycroft had been doing for him.

Stranger: Mycroft unfolded from the car and pulled Sherlock into a light hug, minding his shoulder. "I'm just glad you're alright," he whispered, letting go after a minute.

You: "Thank you," Sherlock repeated, his voice softer. Life had been a little easier since he hadn't been treating Mycroft as the enemy. Well enough that he might consider keeping on doing it.

Stranger: Mycroft nodded and took the car handle in his hand. "Call me if you need anything at all, Sherlock," Mycroft smiled lightly, folding back into the car. "I'll be in touch."

You: Sherlock nodded and stepped back, watching as Lestrade waved and then drove off. He shook his head as he could clearly see Mycroft reach out and take Lestrade's hand.

Stranger: "I love you," Lestrade smiled, squeezing Mycroft's hand as they pulled to a stop at a red light. "You're the best!"

You: "And you are wonderful," Mycroft replied, smiling. "I love you as well." He started as a phone beeped but it wasn't his. "I think someone's calling you," he told Greg.

Stranger: "Can you grab it, love? I don't want to get it while driving..." Lestrade said, shifting slightly.

You: Mycroft reached into Greg's pocket and pulled out his phone, trailing his fingers against Greg's leg as he did so. He looked at the caller ID and recognized the number. "John is calling for you," he told Greg, juggling the phone. "You want me to answer it?"

Stranger: Lestrade hissed in anticipation as Mycroft's fingers trailed his leg. "Please," he whispered, his voice raspy.

You: Mycroft hit the call button as he smiled at Greg. "Hello, John," he said into the speaker. "Greg is currently driving. What is it you wanted to talk with him about?"

Stranger: "Oh, hello Mycroft. Haven't heard from you in a while," John said, forcing a happy tone into his voice. "How have you been?"

You: "Busy but well, thank you," Mycroft replied. "How have you been John?"

Stranger: John thought for a moment, wondering how much Mycroft really needed to know. With another glance at the skull on the mantle, he sighed, "Hurt, to be honest. Upset." He paused for a minute, before also adding. "I never congratulated you, by the way, on your engagement."

You: "Thank you," Mycroft said, his head tilting a bit to the side in confusion. "Is there anything I can do to help, John?" He could hear the pain in John's voice and had to swallow back the words that would save him and kill him all at the same time.

Stranger: "Not unless..." John cut off, tears threatening to overtake him. He tried again. "Not unless you can bring Sh-Sherlock back to me..." John said, his voice cracking and his eyes watering.

You: Mycroft closed his eyes as his head dropped, almost touching his chest. "I can't do that, John," Mycroft murmured. "But I can tell you stories about him sometime if you like."

Stranger: "C-can you tell me one now?" John's voice was small, and for a minute, he thought, maybe, Mycroft hadn't heard him.

You: Mycroft nodded, though John couldn't see it. He took a deep breath, wondering what kind of story to tell. He finally decided on one from when Sherlock was very young. "When he was 6, I got Sherlock his first chemistry set," Mycroft finally said. "He kept to the experiments outlined in the book for about three days. Then he blew up my bedroom."

Stranger: John chuckled lightly, the sound unfamiliar to him. "How did he do that?" He asked quietly.

You: "He used a couple ingredients from the set and then some cleaning supplies our mother kept under the sink," Mycroft explained. "Thankfully, he at least waited until I wasn't in the room to blow it up."

Stranger: John chuckled again. "Wow... He was a troublemaker even then..." John said slowly, thinking. "Can you tell me another?"

You: "There was the time Sherlock brought home a kitten," Mycroft mused. "It was a little black thing with bright green eyes. But Mummy was allergic and Sherlock had to keep it outside."

Stranger: "Did he actually raise it?" John sniffled a little.

You: "He did," Mycroft said. "The kitten lived out in the stable with the horses and survived to a ripe old age."

Stranger: John smiled a little to himself, thinking of Sherlock with a cute little black cat. "What was it's name?"

You: "He named it Shadow," Mycroft laughed. "Sherlock was 7 and didn't quite have his revulsion for normality yet." He could feel tears glimmering in his eyes even as he kept them out of his voice. This was harder than he expected.

Stranger: "Shadow..." John repeated, letting the name caress his tongue. "I like that..." A new wave of tears rolled over him and a small sob broke through. He covered his mouth with his free hand.

You: Mycroft sighed silently and rubbed a hand over his eyes. He let the silence last for a few more moments then said, "John? Are you still there?"

Stranger: "Yes," John said, though it wasn't his voice, not anymore.

You: Mycroft felt the car stop moving and looked out the window to see their flat. He took another deep breath and said, "Well, feel free to ask for more stories anytime. Greg is finished driving so I'm going to hand the phone over to him. Good-bye, John."

Stranger: "Bye, Mycroft. And thank you..." John said slowly. He listened as Mycroft handed the phone over. "Hey, Greg."

You: "Hello, John. How are you?" Greg asked, then mentally kicked himself. John couldn't be feeling all that great right now judging by Mycroft's reaction.

Stranger: John fell silent, not wanting to go through this again. "Fine," he uttered, softly, unconvincingly.

You: Lestrade let it go, not wanting to cause John any more pain. "So what is the reason for your call?" he asked. "Wanting to set up another day at the range?"

Stranger: "Yeah, but... Mind if I call back?" John asked slowly. "I'm not in the mood now..."

You: "Not a problem at all," Lestrade said. "Call me anytime. Even just to talk if it helps, John."

Stranger: "Thank you..." John said slowly, fighting back more tears. "Bye, Greg..."

You: "Talk to you soon, John," Lestrade said before the click on the phone signalled John had hung up. He closed the phone and looked at Mycroft, sadness dulling his eyes.

Stranger: "Greg, are you-?" His question was cut off.

You: "If you were going to say "ok", not really," Lestrade admitted, bracing his elbows on the steering wheel and resting his head on his hands. "I think, since Sherlock doesn't need anything right now, I'm going to head back to the office and try to find Moran."

Stranger: "You don't want to come up stairs?" Mycroft asked gently, taking Greg's hand in his and holding it. "You're tired, I don't think you should go back."

You: "I am tired," Lestrade allowed, a small smile crossing his face. "But it is only 2. Don't you think finding Moran is important?" He let a playful tone creep into his voice as he rubbed his fingers over Mycroft's palm.

Stranger: Mycroft smiled while Greg's fingers ran over his palm. "Of course I do, love," he said, chuckling. "But I also think you need rest, and that I need you for something that is also very important." Mycroft leaned over and nipped at Greg's ear playfully.

You: Lestrade laughed, leaning into Mycroft. "I suppose I can take a break today," he said, mock doubtfully. "That's what I planned for after all. Not my fault Sherlock didn't require more time. What did you have in mind for me?"

Stranger: Mycroft smiled and growled, pulling him out of the car quickly and retaking his hand. He pulled him up the stairs and shut the door behind them, pulling Greg into a deep kiss as soon as the door shut.

You: Lestrade returned the kiss hungrily, pushing Mycroft's jacket off his shoulders. Breaking the kiss, he took a moment to put his phone on vibrate, knowing he'd hear it but could ignore it if he chose. Smiling, he backed Mycroft into the living room and tumbled him down onto the sofa.

Stranger: "I love you," Mycroft growled as he took off Greg's jacket and ran his hands back up his arms.

You: "I love you, Mycroft," Lestrade replied. He slowly undressed Mycroft and skimmed his hands over the revealed skin. A thought crossed his mind and he pulled back to grab his phone. Calling in a quick takeaway order, he smiled at Mycroft. "I don't want to have to go anywhere," Lestrade said, hanging up the phone. "They'll deliver around 5 and we never even have to leave the flat."

Stranger: "Handsome and brilliant!" Mycroft cooed, kissing the corner of Greg's mouth. "How am I so lucky?"

You: "Same reason I am," Lestrade said, turning his head to capture Mycroft's lips. "But it doesn't matter since we're both here." With that, he kissed Mycroft deeply, running his hands over his skin. Lestrade intended to spend the rest of the afternoon imprinting how much he loved this man in his skin.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: Sherlock paced the flat, glancing at the clock with each lap of the room. He waited for Molly to get home, ignoring the pain in his leg. He couldn't sit still after a month of doing nothing but.

You: At 4, Molly walked into her flat, yawning. She smiled at Sherlock when she saw him and said, "Good to see you out of the hospital. Though you look stressed What's wrong?"

Stranger: "We lost Moran, as I'm sure someone told you," Sherlock said, stopping his pacing and throwing himself on the couch. "No trace of him."

"Yes, I heard from Greg a couple weeks ago," Molly confirmed, moving into the kitchen to make some tea. "But you'll find him again."

Stranger: Sherlock growled loudly and punched a the couch arm. "When?!" He barked, running his hands through his hair. "When will we find him next?! Today, tomorrow, next week, next month, next year?! I'm not going without John for another year, Molly!"

You: Molly brought two cups and the teapot back out to the living room and urged Sherlock to sit down. She poured and handed him a cup, taking a sip of her own. "You can go as long as you need to to make sure he's safe," Molly said, placing a hand on Sherlock's shoulder. "And you'll be able to see him every once in a while."

Stranger: "But you don't know how hard it really is!" Sherlock said, caressing his cup in his hands. "When I see him, I want to just hug him. I want to run my hands over his body and tell him who I am, make him stop hurting... I love him, and being without him is killing me..."

You: Molly felt tears well up in her eyes at the naked pain in Sherlock's voice. She pulled him into a hug and said, "I'm so sorry, Sherlock. Maybe there's something we can do. We'll figure it out."

Stranger: Sherlock shook his head, allowing Molly to continue to hug him. "There's nothing we can do, that's the other thing... There's nothing we can do but wait, and hope he messes up. Even then, if we find him, who's stopping him from getting away?"

You: "You'll stop him," Molly asserted. "You'll make sure that once he does make that mistake, you'll stop him. And then go back to John." She noticed that Sherlock had drank all of his tea and refilled his cup.

Stranger: "I just..." He paused, the feeling in his chest growing heavy. He normally hated this feeling and rejected it as nothing, but for John, it was something he welcomed. "I miss him..."

You: "I know, Sherlock," Molly said, rubbing his shoulder. "But we've been keeping John afloat and now it's your turn. What do you need? I can try to get another picture of him if you want."

Stranger: Sherlock shook his head, looking down at his hands in his lap. "That's not enough... It won't patch up enough of this pain... you don't know how bad I just want to give up and run back to him, Molly... You really don't..."

You: "You're right, I don't really know what you're going through," Molly agreed, taking another sip of her tea. "But I'm here for you. And I'm willing to listen."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded with a forced smile. "Thanks."

You: "Anytime," Molly told him, smiling. "I mean it. I'm your friend, Sherlock." She finished her cup of tea and felt her stomach rumbling. "I'm starving now though. You want anything to eat? I'm going to order takeaway."

Stranger: "Sure, just order whatever. I don't really care," Sherlock said, laying across the whole length of the couch as Molly got up.

You: Molly called to her favorite Chinese restaurant and ordered her favorite and something she thought Sherlock would like. She hung up after hearing it would be delivered in 45 minutes. She settled into the chair across from the couch and pulled out her laptop while she waited.

Stranger: Sherlock pulled his phone out and lit the screen, the picture of John filling it at once. He was so beautiful, his eyes shining, his features cunning. He bit back tears as he stared at the picture for a long time.

You: Molly watched Sherlock out of the corner of her eye as she looked over her pathology reports. She'd never told anyone she could get into the hospital's network from her home computer but it helped her finish work Sherlock tended to interrupt.

Stranger: Sherlock closed his eyes for a moment, opening them and caressing John's face with his thumb over the screen like he had so many times before.

You: The time passed slowly and Molly started when her doorbell rang. She placed her computer on the coffee table, the reports still open on her screen, to answer the door. She was distracted by the delivery man for a moment, his smile bright as she answered the door.

Stranger: Sherlock watched from the couch as Molly paid, taking the food and taking it to the kitchen. He stood as she disappeared into the room and he followed.

You: Molly set her food aside and handed Sherlock his along with a pair of chopsticks. "I got you sesame chicken," she explained. "Thought you might like it."

Stranger: "Thanks," Sherlock said with a forced smile. He took the food to the table, sat down, and started eating. He ate slowly, watching the tabletop as he did, not looking around like he normally did.

You: Molly took her food back to her computer and finished going through her reports. Then a sudden thought struck her. "Sherlock, do you have any medical records on Moran?" she asked.

Stranger: "We may in his military records. What did you find?" Sherlock asked, throwing his chopsticks down and moving over behind Molly.

You: "Nothing yet, but I was thinking. What if we tracked him through his medical records?" Molly said, pointing to her laptop. "I can get into just about every hospital through this and someone can't hide all their medical history."

Stranger: "Here, let me load up his records and you can see what you can do," Sherlock said, snatching the laptop from Molly and typing furiously to get to the records.

You: Molly waited with veiled impatience until Sherlock handed the computer back. She looked up at him asking, "Did you injure him at all when you cornered him? It would work best if I had a recent time to start from."

Stranger: "No, I was the only one hurt," Sherlock growled. He tapped his knee with his fingers waiting for Molly to start the search.

You: "All right," Molly nodded. "I'll start from the point he was discharged and work my way forward. If we can trace him through that, we might find a pattern in where he goes." She typed quickly, setting up the search and scouring patient records. What she was doing was more than a little illegal but she would do it for Sherlock.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

You: John sat typing on his computer, the last few pages of his novel flowing from his fingers. He typed out the last sentence, saved, and sat back in his chair, a relieved sigh leaving him. While he stared at the now-completed novel, his phone rang.

Stranger: John fingered the phone from his pocket and eyed the number, which was blocked. Cautiously, he raised the phone to his ear. "Hello?" He asked slowly. A few long moments later, a deep voice answered. "John? Hey, it's Moran, remember? From Afghanistan?"

You: "Yes, I do Colonel," John said, only the time he'd spent out of the military keeping the salute from his voice. "What can I do for you?" John sat back in his chair, confused. He and Moran had been in the same unit but hadn't been particularly close.

Stranger: "I was wondering if we could meet somewhere? I could use your help on a few things," Moran said, making sure his voice stayed friendly. He was supposed to be watching this man, ready to kill him of the time came, so he needed to keep him close by.

You: "Sure, we can meet," John replied. "Are you in London? There's a pub I like to go to on West Street." The voice on the other end sounded sincere and John wondered what he could possibly help the soldier with.

Stranger: "Can you give me the address? I'll meet you there when you have time," Moran said, twisting a pen in his fingers.

You: "It's 19 West Street. It's right on the corner of West and Main. And can we meet in about two hours? I have tonight free," John said, closing down the document on his computer. Rereading the last few chapters could wait a bit.

Stranger: "Sounds good, I'll see you there," Moran said, a fake cheerful tone in his voice.

You: "See you then," John said and hung up his phone. He shook his head over the call, wondering what exactly was going on. And how Moran had gotten his number. He showered and changed then watched a bit of crap telly before getting a cab to the pub.

Stranger: Moran sat down at a booth and tapped his fingers against the table, watching for John. He ordered a drink and downed it in a few gulps.

You: John walked into the crowded pub and looked around for the officer he barely remembered. He finally spotted the man sitting in a booth near the back and made his way over to him. "Sir," John said, raising his hand in an automatic salute.

Stranger: "Evening, John," Moran said, waving the salute off with his hand. "You can drop the army act, we're in a pub as friends."

You: John smiled and slid into the booth. A waitress came up and John ordered a beer. After she left, John turned to Moran and said, "So, what kind of favor are you needing, Colonel?"

Stranger: "I was followed the other day," Moran started, shifting his weight and crossing his legs. "I had shot the man, but I am worried they will be following me again if they aren't already."

You: John's gaze sharpened as he slipped into a protect-and-defend mindset. "What did this man look like and where did he find you?" John asked.

Stranger: "He was tall and had shorter curly blonde hair," Moran said, downing half of his beer in a few swift gulps. "He had a friend with him with short brown hair, tall as well."

You: "Were you able to pinpoint a nationality? Maybe they were trying to kidnap you to hold you hostage," John suggested. He stopped talking as the waitress came back and placed his beer on the table. He took a sip from it and looked back at Moran.

Stranger: "No, I wasn't," Moran said, shaking his head. "Maybe, I don't know what they were planning, I just know I shot the guy in the leg and his friend was panicking."

You: John thought about that while taking another drink. "Sounds more like muggers than anything else," John offered. "They didn't sound exactly professional."

Stranger: "They followed me from one town to the next, I doubt they were simple muggers," Moran shook his head.

You: "Did they follow you here?" John asked. "Or did you come here to try to get away from them? And what exactly are you wanting from me?"

Stranger: "I want to know if you can help me, John," Moran said, getting serious. "I want to know if you can help me figure out who it is."

You: "I can do my best," John said doubtfully. "But wouldn't you be better off going to the police?"

Stranger: "They wouldn't help me," Moran huffed, "Besides, if I go to them, it will be way more work then it is worth."

You: John studied Moran, wondering what the man had gotten involved in. He seemed to be doing a lot of wondering, meeting this old compatriot. "So you want me to do what?" John finally asked. "Be a bodyguard?"

Stranger: "No, no. I just want you to find out who they are, so I can take care of them. And if need be, maybe shoot them."

You: John laughed at that and relaxed. "I'm going to need a better description," he said. "Are you able to draw? Because a picture would work best."

Stranger: "You have paper?" Moran asked, looking around. "And a pencil."

You: John pulled out the small notebook he always carried around and borrowed a pencil from the waitress as she walked by. He handed both to Moran and waited to see what the other man was going to sketch.

Stranger: Moran sketched out the basic looks of the man who he had seen following him, first at his old flat. He turned the page and sketched on the back what the man he shot looked like, he passed the notebook to John and watched as the man went into complete shock.

You: John felt all the thoughts drain out of his mind as Moran turned the sketches towards him. The first one he recognized instantly as Mycroft. The other looked familiar though he couldn't place the face. "You... you're sure these are the men?" John stuttered, pointing at the picture of Mycroft.

Stranger: "Positive. Why? Have you seen them before?" Moran asked, signaling for another drink.

You: "Maybe," John hedged, not wanting to reveal how he knew Mycroft. "This one looks familiar. Can you give me a couple days to make some inquiries?"

Stranger: "Sure. You have my number now, text me whenever you find something." Moran said as he watched John put the notebook away.

You: "Will do, Colonel," John said, finishing his pint. "You mind if I call it a night? I've got a lot of work to do to help you with this?"

Stranger: "Sounds good," Moran nodded, standing and stretching. "I guess I should call it too. I hope to be hearing from you soon, John." Moran held out his hand to John.

You: John shook Moran's hand and handed the pencil back to the waitress as he left. He hailed a cab and waited until he was sitting inside it and pulling away before pulling out his phone. Mycroft, we need to talk. - JW

Stranger: What about, John? -MH Mycroft released Greg's hand and went over to the couch, sitting down by the arm and nodding Greg over next to him.

You: About why Colonel Moran just met with me in a pub and drew me a rather accurate likeness of you and a man he shot. He's worried about people following him. - JW

Stranger: Who did the other man he drew look like, John? -MH

You: He looked familiar but I couldn't place him. Now care to explain what's going on? - JW. John looked up as the cab stopped outside 221B. He paid the man and headed up to his flat, waiting for his phone to beep again.

Stranger: I cannot explain, John. I am sorry. -MH

You: Mycroft, don't try to sidestep this issue. Moran asked me to help him get information on the men following him. I can't choose a side if I don't have all the information. And who was the second man? - JW

Stranger: You talked to Moran?! -MH

You: He called me. You know what? I'd rather have this conversation in person. Can I come to your place or you to mine? - JW

Stranger: Come on over, John. Greg's home as well, as a warning. In case you want him to leave. -MH

You: Not unless you want him to. Somehow I don't see him not knowing what's going on. Be there in about 20 minutes. - JW. John sighed and walked back downstairs, his coat still on. He hailed a cab and directed it to Mycroft's flat.

Stranger: Mycroft pocketed his phone and went to find Greg. He found him in the kitchen, washing some dishes. "Babe? John's coming over to talk to me," Mycroft said, leaning on the door frame.

You: Lestrade turned, soapy bowl still in hand. "Oh?" he asked. "What's he coming over to talk about?" He felt worry start to gnaw at him when he took in the expression on Mycroft's face.

Stranger: "He talked to Moran," Mycroft started, pausing when he saw Greg's face turn into pure panic. "He's fine," he assured him. "But he said Moran drew out these two guys who followed him. He said one looked like me, and the other looked familiar."

You: Lestrade set the bowl down in the sink, rinsed his hands, and dried them off. He moved over to the table and sat down, motioning for Mycroft to do the same. "So he didn't recognize Sherlock, at least not yet," Lestrade said. "I guess our discussion earlier is moot now, since Moran reached out to him. What are you going to tell him?"

Stranger: Mycroft sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I don't know," he admitted. "What can I tell him? I can't tell him it was Sherlock... But I don't know what else I can say..."

You: "You could tell him it was one of your employees," Lestrade suggested. "That would explain the familiarity. And what about why you were following Moran? You know John isn't going to let you just fob it off."

Stranger: "That may work," Mycroft nodded. "And I can always tell him it was confidential government work. He would take that, right? But what if he recognizes Sherlock in that picture, either while he's here or later on? What do we do then?"

You: "Lie again?" Lestrade suggested. He reached across the table laid his hand over Mycroft's, squeezing gently. "He's seen Sherlock a few times now and still hasn't recognized him. As long as he believes that Sherlock is one of your operatives, what would make him think it was Sherlock?"

Stranger: "You know as well as I do that John isn't stupid, Greg. It's only a matter of time..." Mycroft sighed and turned his hand over, taking Greg's in his hand. "I just don't want to keep lying to him..."

You: "Then tell him as much truth as you believe would be safe," Lestrade suggested. "Don't tell him that it's Sherlock but tell him that you believe Moran may be part of Moriarty's network. Or even just a criminal network because I think John would volunteer himself to help if you brought in Moriarty."

Stranger: Mycroft nodded, standing and moving around to Lestrade, wrapping his arms around his neck and leaning on his shoulders. "Thank you, love, for helping. Will you stay, just in case? I'll feel better if you're there with me."

You: Lestrade turned slightly and returned the hug. "Of course, love," he said into Mycroft's neck. "I'll be here for as long as you need me." They both sighed when the doorbell rang. "And that'll be John."

Stranger: "I'll get it," Mycroft said, kissing Greg's cheek as he stood up straight. He smiled at Greg as he left and went to open the door. "Evening, John."

You: "Mycroft," John greeted him as he stepped inside. He waved at Lestrade as the DI walked into the foyer from the kitchen. Pulling out his notebook, he showed the sketches to Mycroft. "I'm ready for your explanation now," John said.

Stranger: Mycroft took the notebook and looked at both of the drawings, both very well detailed. "Why don't we go sit down, John?" Mycroft asked, waving to the living room. "Maybe have some tea?"

You: John narrowed his eyes at Mycroft as he followed the elder Holmes into the living room. "All right," he finally said. "Tea would be good."

Stranger: "Do you mind, love?" Mycroft asked, turning to Greg and giving him a small, loving smile.

You: "No, I can get the tea," Lestrade said. He walked out of the room as John stared at the sketches in Mycroft's hands. The one sketch was really bugging him. The man was so familiar but John still couldn't quite place him. Was it the hair...?

Stranger: Mycroft sat down and indicated for John to do the same. He looked back on the sketches, making sure to leave the one of him on top. "John, I will tell you now, this is me. I'm not going to defend myself on that. But I need to know, why did Moran call you? What did he want?"

You: "Pretty much what I already told you," John explained. "He told me he'd been followed, from one city to another, and he had shot one of the men following him. He got away while the other panicked. He wanted me to find out anything I could about the people that he saw."

Stranger: "John, what did he want you to do to those people if you found them? Did he tell you anything about that?" Mycroft asked, leaning forward to put the drawings on the table.

You: "He said he would take care of them," John said, confused. "Possibly even shoot them. Mycroft, what the hell is going on with all this? Why were you following the Colonel?"

Stranger: "I can't tell you everything, John, understand that. It's government business. But Moran is believed to be part of the IOU, Moriarty's group," Mycroft said, telling John all that he knew was safe. "He's not safe."

You: John's mouth dropped open at the admission, anger coiling in his gut. Before he had a chance to reply, Lestrade returned with a tray and the tea. He silently took the teacup handed to him and drank while trying to gather his thoughts. "Moran is part of the group that essentially killed Sherlock?" John asked, voice hoarse.

Stranger: Mycroft took Greg's hand after he had handed him the tea, and pulled him to sit next to him on the couch, sitting on the other side from John. "Yes, essentially," Mycroft nodded, pulling Greg's hand into his lap and cupping it in both hands. "He's not safe, John." He repeated.

You: John nodded, knowing full well how dangerous Moran was. He'd heard stories while still in Afghanistan. Though, then, he'd dismissed them as rumormongering. Now he had to wonder. "And the other man?" John asked. "The one who was shot? Who is he?"

Stranger: "He's an employee. I brought him along so I wouldn't be alone, in case something happened to me," Mycroft lied, squeezing Greg's hand slightly.

You: "Is he all right?" John continued. "Moran didn't say he'd killed the man but a shot in the thigh can be lethal if not treated quickly."

Stranger: "He's fine. He just got out of the hospital, actually. Everything is fine," Mycroft nodded, a small smile crossing his features as Greg gave his hand a squeeze.

You: "Good. That's good," John said, studying Mycroft. He'd rarely seen the elder Holmes smile, except when it came to Lestrade, so seeing him smile now was strange. "You seem happy about it," John remarked.

Stranger: "Well, we were close, I work with him quite often, which is why I chose to take him," Mycroft said, letting the smile slip.

You: "And probably why I recognized him," John said, relaxing fractionally. "If you work with him often. So what is your plan about Moran?" John picked up the notebook and put it back in his pocket, the problem explained to his satisfaction. Even if that face stayed in his mind's eye.

Stranger: "I'm sorry, John, but that's part of the can't tell you because it's Government business," Mycroft said. "I hope you understand."

You: "It might be government business," John said, nodding. "But when Moran contacted me, he made it my business too. Why would he come to me? Do you know of any other plans Moriarty had?"

Stranger: Mycroft sighed and looked at Greg. "John, can you give me a minute to go make a phone call? I want to go see how much I can actually tell you without giving too much away," Mycroft asked, turning back to John.

You: John glared at Mycroft, wondering what exactly the man was getting at. "The British Government needs to figure out how much he can tell?" John said sarcastically, making no move to get up. "Wouldn't you be the one making that call if it's your operation?"

Stranger: "Believe it or not, there others above me, John. At least in this division there are." Mycroft sighed, standing. "If I may?"

You: "Fine," John said. He sat back on the couch and drank some more of his tea as Mycroft walked away. Turning to Lestrade, he said, "So, how much of this do you know about?"

Stranger: "More than I should," Lestrade said, crossing his arms and legs and leaning back, shaking his head. "He needed someone to talk to, and since I live with him now, he told me almost everything. But I am forbidden to tell anyone, if that's what you're getting at. Not just by Mycroft, but also by my job and the law."

You: John let it go then, knowing exactly how Lestrade was bound within his job. The military had a similar sense of duty. He poured more tea for himself and tried to distinguish words from the murmuring he heard in another room. But he failed utterly, annoying as it was.

Stranger: Mycroft stepped into the hallway and into the bedroom, pulling out his phone and dialing up Sherlock.

You: "We have a problem," Mycroft said tersely as soon as Sherlock picked up. "Moran contacted John and gave him accurate sketches of us. John didn't recognize you but he's here asking questions."

Stranger: "Is he alright? What kind of questions? What have you told him?" Sherlock shot quickly, not taking a breath.

You: "John is fine, questions about who the men following him were, and I told him that Moran is dangerous and we believe part of Moriarty's network," Mycroft told him. "But I wanted to talk to you and see how much more to tell John. He's ready to jump in and help because of the connection with Moriarty."

Stranger: Sherlock sighed over the line and thought for a moment. "Tell him about the system. Everyone we took down. How..." Sherlock paused, his breath catching slightly. "How Moran... Is his sniper..."

You: "You want me to explain why you jumped," Mycroft said softly. "Don't you want to be the one to do that?"

Stranger: Sherlock sighed again. "I have told you why I jumped, and you can tell him what I told you, but he won't truly understand why I did what I did until he hears it from me," Sherlock said, obviously forcefully. "It doesn't matter what you tell him was my reason for jumping, but he needs to know what Moriarty had planed for nhim if I didn't die. You can tell him I jumped to save him from Moran... I don't care, but in this area, tell him what he needs to know so he can stay safe. But avoid mentioning my survival, of course."

You: Mycroft sighed into the phone as he imagined the many questions John was going to ask. And his reaction to knowing why Sherlock jumped. This wasn't going to be easy. "I'll call you afterwards," Mycroft promised, knowing Sherlock would want to know what happened. "And if I think he may be a danger to himself, I won't let him leave."

Stranger: "Thank you," Sherlock said, knowing his brother would look after John was reassuring, even if he wouldn't tell anyone that. "Text me if he becomes too much of a problem. I know ways you can calm him down and will share them if needed."

You: "Very well," Mycroft said, though he did wonder what prompted Sherlock needing to know those methods. "Call you in a few hours. Goodbye, Sherlock."

Stranger: "Goodbye," and with that, he hung up.

You: Slipping the phone into his pocket, Mycroft walked back out to the living room. He sat down next to Greg and took his hand again. He had a feeling John was not going to react well to this and Mycroft would take all the strength he would get. "All right," he said. "This is going to be difficult to hear. But Moran is dangerous because he has orders to kill you. If Sherlock hadn't jumped that day, you, Mrs. Hudson, and Greg would have been killed."

Stranger: "Wait a minute, slow down!" John said, eyebrows shooting straight up into his hairline. "Greg would have been killed? I would have been? And Mrs. Hudson? Why? Explain!"

You: Mycroft took a deep breath and felt Greg squeeze his hand in support. "Moriarty wanted to destroy Sherlock and those he cared about," Mycroft said. "His three closest friends were the targets. That day, there were three snipers positioned to take out you three if Sherlock didn't die. Moran is the sniper who was assigned to you. I've spent the last year and a 8 months trying to neutralize IOU."

Stranger: "Neutralize?" John asked slowly, trying to take it all in. He felt his heart beating and his throat tightening at the thought of Sherlock. "Can you explain a bit more? This is hard to take in..."

You: "John you know exactly what I mean," Mycroft said, giving him a slightly disapproving glance. "Neutralize as in kill. I've already dealt with two of the snipers and the handler. Moran is the only one left."

Stranger: "Y-You killed them?" John asked, shaking his head a little. "When..? How..?"

You: Mycroft looked over at Greg, a question in his eyes. He didn't want to go into detail and have his fiance liable if any of this ever came to light. "Now might be a good time to absent yourself," Mycroft murmured to him. "Plausible deniability, love."

Stranger: "No," Lestrade whispered back, squeezing Mycroft's hand tighter. "Whatever it is, we're in this together now. I can deny hearing anything as a detective. Right now, all I am is your boyfriend and soon-to-be-husband. I'm not leaving."

You: "Thank you," Mycroft murmured before turning back to John. He thought for a few moments about his words, wanting to keep any mention of Sherlock out of this. "The first sniper was Eric in Greg's division. He was the one assigned to kill Greg. He was killed in self-defense actually and I covered up the method by throwing him out his window. He was listed as a suicide. Gary King was shot in his apartment, listed as a home invasion gone wrong. Srechko Hunt was also shot in self-defense. Moran is the last one but something twigged him to the fact that I was following him. He fled from Dublin to Dubai where my operative and I cornered him again. My operative was shot and Moran got away. This was a month ago."

Stranger: "And now he's in London..." John said slowly, thinking over it all. "But why would it matter anyway? Moriarty is dead, as is... As is Sherlock... Wouldn't they just... Stop?"

You: "Their orders were to carry out the deaths if Sherlock didn't jump," Mycroft said sadly, shaking his head. "It doesn't matter that Moriarty and Sherlock are dead. Gary even had files on all of Greg's team and Anthea. I am afraid they may not have stopped even though Sherlock jumped."

Stranger: "Greg and Mrs. Hudson are safe, correct? I am the last one in any possible danger?" John asked, looking at Lestrade with concern.

You: Mycroft hesitated at that, not really knowing the answer for sure himself. "I believe so," he hedged, shooting Greg a worried look. "But from what we've been able to find, Moran was the right hand of Moriarty. We have no clue what additional orders he may have been given."

Stranger: "Then you need to worry about keeping Greg safe, not me," John said slowly, looking between the two of them. "He needs to be here, to stay here. Not I. It wouldn't matter if I was killed, nothing would change. You need to keep a better eye on him then on me."

You: "What, John? No," Mycroft protested, laying his other hand on John's arm for emphasis. "Greg is protected and it would matter if you were killed. Believe me. You have no idea the harm it would do. But as long as Moran believes you to be outside of this, all of us are safe."

Stranger: "What harm could it do? If anything, the burden I place on your shoulders would be lifted. Your lives would be easier," John said slowly, dropping his head as depression took him over. He closed his eyes and saw the image of Sherlock falling to his death over and over again. He wanted to open his eyes and lose the memory, but his eyes wouldn't open. "Me being alive is nothing but a burden for everyone..."

You: "John there are still things you don't know. Things that are important to you but can't be revealed yet," Mycroft said. "I'm sorry I can't tell you yet but you need to believe that you are not a burden and nothing would be easier without you here."

Stranger: John lifted his head to meet Mycroft's eyes. He looked over at Lestrade and saw that he had dropped his head, his face damp with tears. John felt his heart stop when he reminded himself that he caused this pain between them. The obvious hurt in Mycroft's unreadable eyes were put there by him. "I-I'm sorry..." He stuttered, the backs of his eyes burning. "But you are wrong. Nothing can make me less of a burden... Nothing can be important enough to keep me around... Sherlock was the only thing I lived for, and now he's dead. Why am I still here?"

You: "To prove he wasn't the fraud Moriarty manipulated the world into believing he was," Mycroft replied softly. "To prove that Sherlock was every bit the genius you knew him to be. You have the chance to live for him still."

Stranger: "How? No one would listen to me now. I'm just the sidekick who's lost without his hero... I'm nothing to the world," John sighed, rubbing a hand over his face.

You: "You weren't just a sidekick, John," Lestrade interjected fiercely. "We could all see it. Sherlock cared about you a lot and you humanized him. You showed the world the brilliant genius that he was."

Stranger: John stared at Lestrade in a deadpan. His eyes started to water as they stared, and John quickly looked away, wiping at his face. "But now that he's gone... What am I? I'm a joke!"

You: "No, John" Lestrade disagreed. "You are still the same man who's working on making a life for himself. No one considers you a joke and I understand your grief. I can't imagine what I'd do if I lost Mycroft."

Stranger: John watched as the two looked at each other, Mycroft giving him a sad smile and putting his arm around Lestrade's shoulders. John's heart dropped as they kissed gently and the selfish thought of why couldn't that be me and Sherlock? danced through his mind. He turned away as a new wave of tears over came him at the thought. He'd never be able to tell Sherlock how he really felt, really kiss him and hold him and tell him how much the sociopath really meant to him. How much of his life revolved around him. How much of his life he had taken with him when he...

You: Mycroft turned back to John, squeezing Greg's hand again. "I know there's some things you don't understand right now, John," Mycroft said gently. "And I know you don't believe me when I tell you you matter. But can you just give it time so I can prove it to you?"

Stranger: "How?" John asked slowly, his voice betraying him. "How can you prove that to me? How do you expect me to live like this?! Mycroft, I'm already dead inside, I watched the only one I truly loved fall to his death... Why can't I just end it?"

You: "Think about what he would want," Mycroft said, pulling out his last argument. He fervently hoped it would work. "Would Sherlock want you, one of the few people he didn't consider dull and boring, to just let it all go? Especially with how much good you can do with what you observed from him."

Stranger: John dropped his head in silence, thinking. "Even if he wouldn't... What would it matter? I'm not saying I'm going to, but why would he care?"

You: "Because he loved you," Lestrade said softly, eyes full of compassion. "I read that letter he left you, John. He would have wanted you to continue on. Be the "conductor of light" I once heard him refer to you as."

Stranger: "If he loved me, shouldn't I go be with him?" John asked slowly, looking at Lestrade. "I want to be with him..."

You: "He wouldn't want that," Lestrade said, leaning forward for emphasis. "He jumped to protect you, keep you alive and safe. Do you really want to undo everything he died for?"

Stranger: "No... I-I don't..." John said at length, shaking his head. "His death shouldn't have been for nothing. It shouldn't have happened at all..."

You: "I know, John, but it did," Mycroft said sadly, taking over the thread of the conversation. "The only thing we can do is go on as he would have wanted us to. And prove to the world that Moriarty was the criminal, not Sherlock."

Stranger: John nodded slowly, his eyes watering up again. "Thank you..." John muttered slowly, wiping his eyes with his sleeve. "I'll... I'll try my best to get back to normal... But it's just... Hard."

You: Mycroft nodded and patted John's shoulder. "Normal is relative," he said. "Get to a point where you don't feel useless and that's all anyone could ask. Perhaps you could start helping Greg on cases again, once you feel up to it."

Stranger: "I'd like that, though I doubt I'll be of much help," John admitted, smiling sadly at Lestrade. "But it would be nice to hang out with everyone again and get out on the field."

You: "Just let me know when you're ready, John," Lestrade said, smiling back at him. "I can text you when I have a case I could use your help on. And it may give you more inspiration for your book. How is that coming, by the way?"

Stranger: "I actually just finished it today, though I haven't gone back to edit the last few chapters yet. Moran called before I could." John said, smiling a little more truthfully.

You: "That's great!" Lestrade exclaimed. "Congratulations on finishing your first novel, John. I'd love to read the rest when you're done editing it." Mycroft nodded along with Lestrade, a smile coming to his face.

Stranger: "I'll send it as soon as I'm done," John said, his eyes lighting up a little. "Do you guys really like it that much?" He blushed a little.

You: "I enjoyed it," Mycroft said. "You have a gift with words, John. And the ability to craft a wonderful mystery."

Stranger: "T-Thank you," John blushed, looking into his lap. "I'm glad you liked it."

You: Mycroft heaved a silent sigh of relief when he saw that John was stepping back from the abyss he had been about to dive into. He really didn't want to see John destroy himself over this. "Very much so," Mycroft agreed. "Do you have any plans to try to publish it?"

Stranger: "I've thought about it, but I'm not sure. What do you guys think?"

You: "I think you should try," Lestrade said enthusiastically. "And I would definitely love to read more if you decided to start a series."

Stranger: John thought about it for a moment, then nodded slowly. "I may." John smiled at Lestrade.

You: Mycroft looked over at Greg, one eyebrow quirking up. Greg nodded very slightly and Mycroft turned back to John. "That sounds good," Mycroft said. "But I do need to ask, what are you going to tell Moran?"

Stranger: "What should I tell him?" John asked, his smile fading to look seriously at Mycroft. "I don't want him to..." John cleared his throat. "Take care of you..."

You: "No, that would be unfortunate," Mycroft said dryly. "Perhaps if you told him that we were part of the government but you don't know any more than that?"

Stranger: "He'll want me to figure out more... He'll follow you..." John said, looking worried.

You: "Maybe you could feed him false information?" Lestrade suggested, rubbing a hand over his face. "Just enough truth to keep him from guessing the rest was fake though."

Stranger: "I'll come up with something," John sighed. "Tell him it wasn't who I thought it was or something."

You: "That should work," Mycroft said slowly. "But if he contacts you again, you need to tell me. I want to remind you, John, exactly how dangerous this man is. And he carries a bullet that may have your name on it."

Stranger: "I remember," John nodded. "And I'll tell you. Believe me, I don't want something to happen to you guys, especially if I know I can prevent it." John looked between the two of them. "You guys are basically all I have left..."

You: "Thank you, John," Mycroft said gravely, his heart breaking at the last sentence. He finished the now-cold tea in his cup and set it on the table. "You are welcome to stay here tonight if you like," he offered.

Stranger: "Oh... I-I couldn't..." John said, looking between them again. "I mean, I wouldn't want to... Get in the way of your... Plans."

You: "John you may not consider me so, but I do consider you a friend," Mycroft argued. "And you've had a shock tonight. Our plans can wait if you need friends."

Stranger: John looked at Mycroft for a long while. "Thank you, Mycroft. I'm glad to have a friend like you," John smiled. "I think I might take you up on that offer, actually. I don't want to be alone now..."

You: "You can stay in the guest room," Lestrade offered. "We leave everything there for when my family visits."

Stranger: "Thank you, Greg. Mycroft," John smiled. "You guys really are great friends."

You: "You're very welcome," Mycroft replied, standing. He grabbed the tray with the empty teapot and cups and headed into the kitchen. "Feel free to turn in whenever," Lestrade said. "We're probably going to bed soon unless you need to talk further."

Stranger: John stood with Lestrade and folded him into a tight hug. "Thank you, Greg," John said as he let go. "I think I'm going to turn in."

You: "Good night, then John," Lestrade said, hugging John back. He patted John's shoulder before watching him climb the stairs to the second floor. He then walked into the kitchen to find Mycroft. "He's going to bed," Lestrade explained, wrapping his arms around Mycroft's waist.

Stranger: "Going or gone?" Mycroft chuckled, leaning over behind him and kissing Greg hungrily.

You: Lestrade kissed back, tightening his arms around Mycroft's waist. "He headed upstairs before I came in here," he murmured, tilting his head to nibble at Mycroft's neck. "Why? What did you have in mind?"

Stranger: "Oh, I don't know..." Mycroft muttered, tilting his head to the side to give Greg more room, hissing in pleasure.

You: Lestrade took the invitation and licked up the thick muscle in Mycroft's neck. He sucked at the soft skin under Mycroft's ear and ran his hands down Mycroft's back. "How about heading up to our room?" Lestrade suggested.

Stranger: Mycroft hummed and closed his eyes, rolling his head even farther to the side. "What are you going to do to me?" He asked with a smile.

You: "I was thinking of stripping you slowly," Lestrade said, sucking his way across Mycroft's neck. "And then I was thinking of kissing every inch of skin as it's revealed until you're begging me for more."

Stranger: "Oh my God...." Mycroft muttered, Greg's hands working magic on his sides. He felt himself melting into the DI and loved every moment of it. "What else?"

You: "Then I plan to push you back on the bed and nip and suck my way down your stomach to your thighs, teasing you all the way. Getting closer and closer to where you want me to go, but never quite reaching," Lestrade continued, licking around the shell of Mycroft's ear.

Stranger: "Oh my..." Mycroft shifted his hips, feeling himself getting harder with each word. "I might need your help here, love," Mycroft laughed, shifting again.

You: "Well, I think that depends on what you're planning to do," Lestrade replied, chuckling darkly.

Stranger: Mycroft turned in Greg's grip, pulling him right up against him, his erection pressing against his leg. "Anything," Mycroft growled, kissing Greg hungrily and forcefully. "I want your help with this."

You: Lestrade's hand drifted down to Mycroft's thigh and squeezed gently. "I think I can help you," he murmured. "Let's head upstairs."

Stranger: "God..." Mycroft smiled, Greg taking his hand and pulling him towards the door. "Its hard to walk," he laughed, following Greg.

You: "I'll help with that, too," Lestrade laughed. "I love you, Mycroft." He led the way up to their bedroom, walking as quietly as they could past John's room. "You're going to have to be quiet," he continued.

Stranger: Mycroft whimpered as he watched Greg lock their door. "I-I'll try, but I may need quieting," Mycroft said, as he watched Greg turn to him.

You: Lestrade swallowed hard at that, images of a tie muzzling Mycroft dancing through his mind. He could see the moment Mycroft deduced part of what he was thinking because the other man's eyes dilated.

Stranger: "Greg..." Mycroft muttered, his heart speeding up. "You have such creative ideas, use them." He was growling as Greg stayed against the door. "Don't go easy on me."

You: Lestrade laughed again and pushed the door open. He backed Mycroft up to the footboard of their bed and gestured for him to wait. Walking into the closet, he grabbed one of his least favorite ties and brought it back, brandishing it at Mycroft.

Stranger: "Don't be gentle," Mycroft smiled as he opened his mouth to let Greg place the tie the way he wants it.

You: Lestrade carefully wrapped the tie around Mycroft's mouth and the back of his head, making sure it was tied but not overly tight. He then proceeded to unbutton Mycroft's shirt and slide it over his shoulders.

Stranger: Mycroft shrugged off his shirt and went to start slowly unbuttoning Greg's. He hummed, the sound muffled by the tie, as Greg's skin was slowly revealed to him.

You: Lestrade ran his fingers over Mycroft's chest as he shrugged out of his shirt. He undid Mycroft's pants and let them slide down before pushing his lover back down onto the bed. He undid his own and followed, ranging himself over Mycroft.

Stranger: Mycroft shifted under Greg to get into a better angle. His heart was racing as he prepared himself for the most exciting night of his life.

\-------------------------------end chapter 12------------------------------------


	13. Chapter 13

You: The next morning, John woke early to his regular nightmare. It hadn't faded, even after so many months. Unable to stay in bed with the image of Sherlock lying bloody on the pavement on his mind, John got up and dressed quickly. He decided not to bother Mycroft and Lestrade and headed back to his own flat.

Stranger: John took a cab back to 221B and unlocked the front door. He took the steps carefully, not wanting to wake Mrs. Hudson, and made sure to skip over the seventh, knowing it protested loudly when stepped on. Slowly and quietly, he made his way up to his flat.

You: He sighed and walked into the kitchen to make toast for breakfast. After it had popped up out of the toaster and he spread butter on it, John took his toast back to the desk in the living room. He opened his laptop to start going over the last few chapters of his novel.

Stranger: John scanned over the last couple of chapters and fixed the errors he found. After correcting all he could find, he put the finished document into an email and sent it to both Greg and Mycroft. Sighing, John leaned back in his chair and yawned, glancing up at the clock to see it was almost nine.

You: John stretched his arms over his head, trying to decide what he wanted to do today. It was still early, so anything was possible. As he was thinking, his phone rang.

Stranger: "John," Moran said as the line was answered, not even bothering for a hello. "You find anything?"

You: "Hello, Colonel," John said, stalling for time. "And I haven't found anything yet. I thought I recognized one of the men, but looking at the sketch again, it's not quite right. Have you seen either of them again?"

Stranger: Moran sighed loudly and tapped his fingers against his knee. "No, I haven't. Come on, John. You need to figure this out."

You: "I will try, but I can't guarantee anything," John said, a frisson of fear running down his spine at the bite in Moran's words. Now he could hear the danger the man represented.

Stranger: "That's not an option, John," Moran growled, his teeth grinding. "You will find out who it is, or else." Then, the line went dead.

You: "And that wasn't disturbing at all," John murmured sarcastically to his phone. He checked the time again and noticed that the call had only taken a few minutes. He decided it was early enough to call Mycroft and Lestrade and dialed Lestrade's cell.

Stranger: "'ello?" Lestrade slurred, taking his phone off the bedside table, whispering as to not wake Mycroft.

You: "Sorry to wake you, Greg," John said, wincing. "But I just got a rather disturbing call from Moran. You got a minute?"

Stranger: "Sure," Lestrade yawned, quietly getting out of bed and slipping out of the room, closing the door behind him. He moved to the living room and sat on the couch, not bothering to put his robe on seeing Mycroft was the only other in the flat, and he sees him naked all the time. "So what happened, John?"

You: "Moran called and wanted to know if I'd found anything yet," John explained, taking a deep breath. "I told him that I hadn't had a chance yet and that I'd thought I'd recognized one of the men in the sketch. But I lied and said when I looked again, I didn't. He warned me this needed to get done and I told him I couldn't guarantee anything. He told me to get the information or else and hung up."

Stranger: "God, this isn't good... John, listen, I don't want you leaving your flat. Keep your gun with you at all times, close or block the windows so no one can see in, and don't just open the door without looking first," Lestrade said, running his hand through his hair. "I need to talk to Mycroft to get a better plan underway, but until then, please stay at your flat, and call me if you need something."

You: John laughed a little nervously, one hand fiddling with the pen on his desk. "You make it sound like he's going to wage all-out war against me, Greg," John said. "Do you really believe I need to do all of that right now?"

Stranger: "John, this is nothing to take lightly," Lestrade said urgently. "I don't know if you really need to, but I want you to. I can't watch you die, John."

You: "All right," John said, sighing. "I'll cover all my windows with dark curtains and I won't go anywhere. Can you call me as soon as Mycroft figures something out?" John glanced around the room, trying to figure out how many windows he had to cover.

Stranger: "Of course. Text me if anything else comes up. I'll call you in an hour or so. Bye, John," Lestrade said, standing.

You: "Yeah, thanks Greg," John said, hanging up the phone. He stood and carefully covered up all the windows, acting as if it was just a normal day. He didn't want to do anything to provoke Moran. John then took stock of his kitchen and decided that he would be needing groceries in a couple days. He only hoped this situation didn't last that long.

Stranger: Lestrade stood and stretched, turning to head back to the bedroom and jumping when he saw Mycroft standing in the doorway in his bathroom. He blushed deeply when he remembered he was still naked in the middle of the living room, and suddenly became really self concious about it, regardless of how many times Mycroft had seen him this way. "M-Morning," he greeted, scratching the back of his neck.

You: "Morning, love," Mycroft drawled, letting his eyes sweep over Greg's form. "I think I really enjoy you living here if I can wake up to this in the morning." His smile faded when he saw the serious look on Greg's face. "What's wrong, love?"

Stranger: "John's bring threatened, Mycroft," Lestrade said, sitting down on the couch and crossing his legs so Mycroft wouldn't be so easily distracted. He took a pillow from next to him and hugged it to his chest, making sure it covered his lap as well. He indicated for Mycroft to join him. "I told him not to leave his flat, and to make sure no one can see in. We need to figure out a way to protect him, babe."

You: Mycroft settled down next to Greg, a small smile dancing across his face at the man's actions. He placed his hand over Greg's forearm while he thought out the implications of what he'd said. "We have to move him," Mycroft said. "Get him out of Moran's sights."

Stranger: "To where?" Lestrade asked, leaning his head on Mycroft's shoulder. "You know he won't want to sell 221B, and he doesn't have money to pay for two flats..."

You: "No, not sell 221B," Mycroft said. "Maybe I can move him into a safe house. I know of several unoccupied ones the government keeps. He could even move in here but I'm worried that if Moran saw me, he would kill everyone here."

Stranger: "Oh... Don't say that, babe..." Lestrade said, closing his eyes. He couldn't, and didn't want to, picture a world without Mycroft, if somehow he, himself, managed to escape. "Let's move him to a safe house. Somewhere semi-close by, that way we can still help him if he... becomes depressed again."

You: Mycroft pulled Greg into a hug, resting his chin on the other man's shoulder. "All right, that sounds better," he said softly. "Now the trick is just convincing John to move out of his flat for the time being."

Stranger: "I'll call him later and talk to him," Lestrade said uncrossing his legs, crossing them again almost at once when he remembered why he crossed them in the first place. He felt a blush creep up his neck once again.

You: "I have to admit, I'm surprised to see you shy in your own home, Greg," Mycroft murmured, his eyes tracing Greg again. "You don't have to hide from me, love."

Stranger: "It wouldn't have been good to be... exposed during a serious conversation, is all," Lestrade said back, his voice softening as Mycroft's hand traced his side down to the pillow, taking the corner. Lestrade released his grip on the pillow enough that, if Mycroft really wanted to, he could pull it out of his arms easily.

You: Mycroft eased the pillow away and folded Greg further into his arms. "I love you, you know that? Always so practical," Mycroft mused. He pressed a kiss to Greg's temple as he rubbed a hand down his back.

Stranger: Lestrade leaned his head back and moved to catch Mycroft's lips with his own. "I love you too, babe," Lestrade whispered against his lips, keeping the kiss light and loving.

You: Mycroft teased with his lips, pressing lightly and pulling away. When they were both breathless, Mycroft finally brushed a final kiss to Greg's lips and pulled away. "We should probably get all this going," he said regretfully. "I don't want John there any longer than he has to be."

Stranger: "I know you're right," Lestrade sighed, running his hands from Mycroft's cheeks to the bottom of his neck. "Maybe tonight, we can finish?" He leaned in and planted another light kiss to Mycroft's lips.

You: "Course, love," Mycroft said. He unwrapped his arms from around Greg and stood, running a hand over his face. "I've got so much planning to do," he said quietly. "And I'm going to need your help for a lot of it. Do you have to go into the office today?"

Stranger: "I'll call and see if Anderson can fill in for me..." Lestrade said, standing and stretching.

You: "Oh dear," Mycroft said dryly. "I hope no new cases come in, then." He grinned at Greg and headed back to their bedroom to get dressed for the day.

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled and followed Mycroft to get dressed. He had no desire to be calling Anderson naked, even if the man couldn't see him, it just felt weird. He changed quickly, trying to avoid looking over at Mycroft as to not get any urges to just take him down on the bed and forget about John. As soon as he finished, he went out to the living room to call Anderson.

You: "Anderson, I need you and Donovan to take over today," Lestrade said when Anderson picked up his phone. "I have a family emergency I need to take care of."

Stranger: "Family emergency?" Anderson asked. "Is everything alright?"

You: "It will be," Lestrade assured him. "I just need some time to deal with everything. Thanks."

Stranger: "No problem, good luck with everything," Anderson said before he hung up and sighed. "Lestrade won't be in today," he called to Donovan as he started towards her office.

You: "Really?" Donovan asked when Anderson made it into her office. "Everything ok with him?"

Stranger: "Family emergency," Anderson shrugged. "I didn't even think he had any close family."

You: "I think he has a sister or something," Donovan shrugged. "He's rather close-lipped when it comes to his family. But today is shaping up to be slow, so I guess we won't need him."

Stranger: "I never hear anything, but whatever. I'm not complaining about a relaxing day at work," Anderson said and he made his way to the door. "I'll be in my office if you need me."

You: "Yeah," Donovan said absently as she went through her emails. If they were lucky, no one would be killed today and they could just stay here in the office.

Stranger: Lestrade went into the kitchen to find Mycroft sitting at the table, papers laid out in front of him and his phone standing nearby. Lestrade went up behind him and wrapped his arms around Mycroft's neck, hugging him. "I got out for the day," he said with a kiss to Mycroft's temple. "Anything I can help with?"

You: "If you could call John for me?" Mycroft asked, not looking up from the paperwork. "I'm trying to find a nearby safehouse that isn't being used."

Stranger: "Sure, love," Lestrade smiled, running his hands a few times over Mycroft's shoulders. He moved around and sat down across from Mycroft, pulling out his phone and calling up John. "John? Hey, it's Greg."

You: "Hello, Greg," John replied, his voice tense. "Have you and Mycroft found a solution yet?"

Stranger: "We have," Lestrade said, stealing a glance at Mycroft. "Mycroft is currently looking into nearby safehouses. We want to move you there, just for a little while, until this all blows over and we are sure you're safe."

You: "Move?" John asked flatly. "Wouldn't he just follow me wherever I go? If Moran has the resources Moriarty had, he could just simply track my cellphone or hack into the government databases."

Stranger: Lestrade sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "You're right... Although, knowing Mycroft, he will make sure the government databases are clean. But if he can track you with cellphone..." Lestrade looked at Mycroft, who was watching him.

You: "Have him leave his cellphone in his flat," Mycroft murmured. "I can get him a burner phone."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded. "John, leave your cellphone in your flat when you leave," he said, keeping his eyes locked on Mycroft's. "He said he can get you a burner phone."

You: "Fine," John sighed. "Do you have any idea how long I'm going to be out of here? If we want it to seem like I'm still living in 221B, I can't leave with a giant suitcase."

Stranger: "We don't know..." Lestrade said slowly. "But only bring what you really need. I'll go out and buy you new clothes and other things. Just pack a small backpack with things most important to you living there, like your laptop and, maybe, that note Sherlock left you. Then things like your toothbrush and stuff."

You: "You don't need to buy me clothes," John protested. "I can make up a bag or something and you can come grab it. If Moran sees, he'll probably assume I'm giving you stuff."

Stranger: "We can try that," Lestrade said slowly, his eyes final drifting from Mycroft's to look down across the papers on the table. "When shall I come by? I can take the bag and tell you where you're going. I don't want to text it to you or tell you over phone in case it can be hacked."

You: "Give me an hour?" John suggested. He looked around the flat and tried to decide what he wanted to take. "Then I should be ready."

Stranger: "Alright, shall I bring lunch or something? Seeing it will be near lunch time when I come around," Lestrade suggested, Mycroft looking back up at him as he suggested it.

You: "That sounds good. Just bring whatever you want over," John said. "I'm not feeling that picky today. See you then, Greg."

Stranger: "Bye, John." Lestrade hung up and put the phone back on the table. He looked back up at Mycroft.

You: Mycroft tapped on one of the papers in front of him, a smile crossing his face. "I found one," he said happily. "It's a couple blocks from here so we'll be able to keep an eye on him."

Stranger: "That's perfect!" Lestrade said, standing and coming around to look at the paper over Mycroft's shoulder. "You're amazing," he said as he leaned over and kissed the top of Mycroft's head.

You: Mycroft grinned at Greg and wrapped an arm around his waist. "Thanks love," he said. "Now we just need to get John out of there safely."

Stranger: "That will hopefully be the easy part," Lestrade said, running a hand through Mycroft's slick, soft hair. "I should head out soon if I'm going to make it to John's with lunch. Do you want me to pick something up for you on the way back?"

You: "No thank you," Mycroft replied, a bit sadly. "I'm still working on my diet and eating out is not a good idea."

Stranger: "Hun, you don't need a diet," Lestrade soothed, running his hand through his lover's hair again. "You're perfect."

You: Mycroft kissed Greg in reply, a pleasant tingle stealing through him. "Why don't I join you when you go over to John's?"

Stranger: "I'd love that," Lestrade smiled, looking lovingly into Mycroft's deep eyes. "But what about Moran? What if he sees us together and recognizes us?"

You: "Damn it, you're right," Mycroft said, shaking his head. "I'm not doing all this just to put John in danger again. Sometimes, I really hate that sniper."

Stranger: "I'll bring you something home, then we can relax and watch a movie or something, okay?" Lestrade said, sitting on Mycroft's lap and cupping his face. "This is such an amazing thing you are doing, Mycroft. Both Sherlock and John will be so grateful in the end."

You: "We can only hope," Mycroft replied, looking at the clock. "You should get going. I still have a lot of work to do to set this up." He brushed his lips over Greg's again and let him go.

Stranger: "I love you," Lestrade smiled as he stood and went to get his coat. "Is there something special you want? Or do you care?"

You: "No, nothing special love," Mycroft replied. He pulled out his cellphone and started writing a lengthy set of instructions for Anthea. "Just whatever catches your eye when you head back. I love you, Greg."

Stranger: "Be back in a few hours," he called as he shut the door behind him. He made the walk out to his car, unlocked it, and started it up, pulling out of the lot and starting towards John's, watching for a restaurant.

You: He saw an Italian place about halfway to John's flat and stopped to get food for both of them. By the time he got to John's, the hour was almost up and Lestrade kept looking around for Moran. He felt like he was being watched and he'd been a detective long enough to trust his instincts.

Stranger: He knocked on the door and smiled as Mrs. Hudson opened the door, stepping back and waving him inside. "Evenin' Mrs. Hudson. Hope all is well," Lestrade smiled, as he wiped his feet on the mat, balancing the food in one hand and the drinks he had bought the two of them in the other.

You: "It is, dear," Mrs. Hudson replied, smiling at Lestrade. "Here to see John again? He sounds like he could use the company. I've been hearing him pacing for the past couple hours."

Stranger: "Ah, yes, he's a little... on the edge at the moment. He called me so we can work things out in his life, thus the food and all," Lestrade said, indicating the food with a nod.

You: Mrs. Hudson's smile grew wider and she impulsively hugged Lestrade. "Good," she said. "He needs someone to be on his side and help him sometimes. He still has nightmares late at night. I can hear him screaming sometimes."

Stranger: "Screaming?" Lestrade frowned, creasing his brow. "He screams?"

You: She looked up the stairs, as if to make sure that John was still behind a closed door. She lowered her voice and said, "I hear him yelling Sherlock's name and stop a lot. I think he has nightmares of that day."

Stranger: "Oh," Lestrade said, his frown deepening. If only he knew the truth..., he thought as he said goodbye to Mrs. Hudson and went up to knock on John's door with his foot.

You: John opened the door after a few moments and Lestrade could tell he was looking out of the peephole like he'd been instructed. "Hello, Greg," John said, opening the door and ushering Lestrade in.

Stranger: "Hi, John," Lestrade said, placing the food on a nearby table. He pulled John into a hug for a few moments.

You: John melted into the hug, tension and fear overwhelming him. This was different than the danger he'd been in in the military. This was someone specifically targeting him and he didn't like it at all.

Stranger: "How are you feeling?" Lestrade asked, holding out the hug. "I know this was all just kinda dumped on you."

You: "A little turned-around," John admitted, pulling back from the hug. Though he kept one hand on Lestrade's arm, needing the contact. "I mean, I didn't know Moran all that well but I still trusted him. He was one of us."

Stranger: "I understand. And I'm sorry it came to be like this," Lestrade said, giving John a sad smile. "The good news is Mycroft found a safehouse just down the street from us, so you'll be close by."

You: "That isn't going to put you guys in danger, will it?" John asked sharply. "If Moran sees Mycroft again, he will probably recognize him."

Stranger: "He's in no more danger than he would be," Lestrade sighed. "I'm not going to let him leave the flat as much as I can help it."

You: John nodded and stepped away, gesturing to the small bag that sat next to the door. "I've got clothes in there," he explained. "And all the important things I need are in my laptop case. How do you want to head over to the safehouse?"

Stranger: "I figured I'll go first, taking your things over to the safehouse and setting everything up for you, then you can head over about two hours after I leave? Would that work for you?" Lestrade asked, moving over and handing John his lunch.

You: John took the container and opened it to find chicken carbonara. He walked into the kitchen to start tea and grab forks before he replied. "Yeah, that sounds like a plan," he said. "I've been looking carefully out my windows for Moran, but I haven't seen him."

Stranger: "Well, that's a good sign, at least," Lestrade said. "Oh, and I have drinks here, if you want one."

You: John took the soda and sat down at the desk. He'd already packed his laptop up, so the desk only had a few pens and some papers on it. "I'm sorry to put you guys to so much trouble," John said, looking down at his food.

Stranger: "No, John, it's not trouble," Lestrade said, sitting on the couch and placing his soda on the table in front of him, opening his box of curry. "We just want you safe, and it's not like you planned for this to happen."

You: John shook his head and started eating, many thoughts running through his head. He didn't completely understand why Moran would still be watching him so long after Sherlock's death but he supposed it didn't matter. "I can help you guys get to Moran," he finally said. "He trusts me at the moment."

Stranger: "Mycroft and I talked about that, and we both agreed we don't want to put you in harm's way any more than you may already be," Lestrade said through a mouthful of curry.

You: "I understand that. I really do," John said. "But if using me is the only way to get to him, then remember that I've volunteered. Moriarty is not going to win, even dead."

Stranger: "We won't call on you to do anything except as the last choice," Lestrade shook his head. "Mycroft can handle things. He's smart enough to figure this out."

You: John let it go then, knowing any arguments he made would be countered by Lestrade. But he made plans of his own, in case he ever saw Moran again. Mycroft wouldn't need to worry about taking care of the man if that happened.

Stranger: Lestrade fell into silence, eating his dinner slowly and enjoying just being with John. He knew he was worried, and who wouldn't be, but John was strong enough to handle himself.

You: They sat in a companionable silence until the last bits of their dinner were eaten. "All right, so Operation Trick Moran is now starting, huh?" John joked, needing something to help ease the tension he still felt.

Stranger: "If you're ready," Lestrade said, standing and taking John's box, going to the trash can.

You: John sighed and stood, grabbing his bag from the floor next to the door. He handed it to Lestrade when he walked back. Impulsively, John hugged him again. "Sorry," he said, backing away. "But I really think this whole thing is driving me crazy. See you in two hours?"

Stranger: "Don't say sorry," Lestrade smiled, pulling John into a hug. "You know I don't mind. And yes, two hours. I'll come by later to make sure you're alright and all, but I won't be there when you first get there."

You: "Be safe," John muttered, feeling embarrassed. He closed the door behind Lestrade as the other man left and locked it carefully. He sat in his armchair and looked at his phone, wishing with all his might that he could text Sherlock. Which he decided to do anyway, not expecting an answer.  
Mycroft told me why you did it. I wish you had told me, Sherlock. - JW

Stranger: Sherlock stared at the text message, wishing he could text John back. Locking and saving the message, he pocketed the phone again.

You: John waited the two hours, alternating staring at his phone and talking with the skull that still adorned the mantle. When the clock struck noon, he picked up his laptop case and locked the door behind him. He hailed a cab and directed the driver to the address Lestrade had given him.

Stranger: Lestrade re-entered his flat and looked around the living room. "Mycroft? I'm home, and I have your food," Lestrade called, abandoning his coat.

You: "In the kitchen," Mycroft yelled back, his voice full of annoyance. He hadn't moved in the several hours Greg had been gone and he was busily talking on his phone and writing notes.

Stranger: Lestrade moved into the kitchen and saw the annoyance on his lover's face right away. With concern, he set the food on the end of the table and moved around to place his hand on Mycroft's arm, not wanting to bother him too much.

You: Mycroft smiled at Greg then snarled into the phone. Finally getting his way, as he knew he would from the beginning of the call, Mycroft hung up and pulled Greg down for a kiss. "Hi, love," he murmured.

Stranger: "Everything alright?" Lestrade asked as Mycroft broke the kiss. "You looked upset."

You: "It will be," Mycroft promised, glaring at his phone again. "Some of my orders to Anthea didn't go down well with my superiors. I just had to convince them. And the safehouse is in use under my name."

Stranger: "Won't that be dangerous? What if Moran-" Lestrade was cut off by Mycroft's lips attacking his own.

You: "He doesn't.... know my... name," Mycroft said between kisses. "And John's name... won't appear... at all." He slid his hands up into Greg's hair, holding him close.

Stranger: "Good..." Lestrade managed out before Mycroft attacked again. "God, Mycroft..."

You: "I hate dealing with bureaucratic paper pushers with nothing but the bottom line on their minds," Mycroft hissed, moving down to nip at Greg's neck. "The only thing that kept me from snapping was imagining kissing you senseless when you got back."

Stranger: "Then do so," Lestrade growled. He pulled Mycroft closer and ground his hips against Mycroft. Pulling him back up, Lestrade attacked Mycroft messily, his lips kissing all over his lower face.

You: Mycroft pulled back on Greg's hair, tilting his head so that he could claim his lips. He sucked the lower one in between his teeth and bit down gently, laving his tongue over the bite. Mycroft then plunged his tongue into Greg's mouth and devoured him.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned loudly and felt Mycroft pushing him back. He let himself be pushed right back into a wall, Mycroft's body pinning him there. He kissed back roughly, feeling his lips growing raw and red.

You: Mycroft sucked on Greg's tongue and teased him mercilessly. He leaned back a bit and nipped at his bottom lip again. "If I didn't have a lot more work to do," Mycroft panted. "I wouldn't be stopping at kissing you, love."

Stranger: "After," Lestrade panted, running his hand down and cupping Mycroft through the fabric. He kissed him deeply again, keeping his hand on Mycroft's erection, and moaned as Mycroft whipped his tongue over his lips.

You: "Perfect," Mycroft said, his lips moving against Greg's as he spoke. "Keep your night free if you can, love." With a final kiss, Mycroft stepped back and brushed a hand down his shirt. His phone beeped and he glared at it, knowing it was probably Anthea.

Stranger: Lestrade watched as Mycroft moved over and sat with his phone to his ear, his face going hard and serious again. His eyes trailed down Mycroft's body and smiled as he saw the slight bump of a growing erection, knowing he did that to him. Lestrade moved over and open the tray of food, setting it down with a fork in front of Mycroft and moving to make tea for the two of them, knowing Mycroft needed it more than ever.

You: "You have everything set?" Mycroft asked, picking up the fork and twirling some pasta onto it. "Excellent, thank you Anthea." He took a bite while listening and smiled at Greg. The food was perfect.

Stranger: Lestrade kept his back to Mycroft as he made the tea, making sure everything was perfect for him. He set the cup in front of his lover and sat down across from him, sipping his own cup and looking over the papers in front of Mycroft.

You: "No, I don't know how long I'll be needing the house," Mycroft snapped. "It could be anything from two days to even two years! Yes, I know my superiors won't like it. Don't worry, I have ways around it." He sipped at the tea and held back another sigh of happiness.

Stranger: Lestrade watched Mycroft sadly, seeing how stressed he really was. He told himself to remember to give Mycroft a nice message when they were done.

You: "No, I don't need you to stop by there and stock the house," Mycroft continued. "Thank you, I know this has been difficult for you to accomplish in the time frame I've given you. Remind me to give you a bonus for this. Goodbye, Anthea." Mycroft hung up the phone and looked into Greg's eyes. "The tea and pasta are perfect, thanks love," he said, taking Greg's hand with his free one.

Stranger: Lestrade stood and moved around to behind Mycroft, placing his hands on his shoulders and digging his fingers into the tense muscles under the skin. "You're welcome, babe," he whispered, kissing the top of Mycroft's head. "Are you alright?"

You: "I will be," Mycroft replied, leaning back into Greg's hands. "This is really frustrating. And the more so because I believe John could really help if he were told everything."

Stranger: "But you know he could be killed if we tell him," Lestrade said softly, running his hands down Mycroft's arms before going back to working on the knots.

You: Mycroft closed his eyes and rested his hands on the table, tilting his head a bit so Greg could get to the knots in his neck. "I know," he murmured. "That's what's driving me crazy with all this. He would be the perfect spy, let's say, with Moran but if Moran even got a hint that Sherlock was alive, John would be killed."

Stranger: Lestrade sighed as he continued to work the knots. "Things will all work out in the end, with or without John helping us. He's alive and safe and that's what's important."

You: "I know but how long will he stay that way?" Mycroft asked, worry in his voice. "It seems like everything he deals with drives him further and further into a depression. Sherlock gave him a life he cared about and now that John believes him gone, how much longer will he last?"

Stranger: Lestrade shook his head, resting his forehead against the top of Mycroft's head. "I know, I know..." he said at length, running his hands down to Mycroft's and taking them. "I'm doing my best to keep him away from the edge, but everytime I pull him back, he goes right back, ready to jump... I don't know how much longer we can do that to him... But we have to try."

You: Mycroft squeezed Greg's hand and nodded. He felt much better, most of the tension gone from his shoulders. And now things were looking up. "Well, we've accomplished the first part at least," Mycroft said. "Getting him away from Moran is important. Speaking of that, when are you needing to meet John at the safehouse?"

Stranger: "I told him later today," Lestrade sighed, kissing the crown of his head, breathing in Mycroft's scent. "Why you ask?"

You: "Because I don't want him standing outside on the doorstep," Mycroft explained. "The door is locked and you need a key to get in. Anthea should be bringing it in the next hour."

Stranger: "I was already there, love. The door wasn't locked, and John should be there by now as well," Lestrade said, lifting his head and raising an eyebrow.

You: "What?" Mycroft asked, an edge of panic in his voice. He turned around in the chair and stared up at Greg. "How long ago were you there? And did you see anything out place?"

Stranger: "Only an hour or so ago," Lestrade said, moving back a little to look down at Mycroft, noting the panic sketched on his face. "What's wrong?"

You: "The place should have been locked tight," Mycroft explained tersely. "That safehouse hasn't been used in about 6 months. There should be a layer of dust over things. If it wasn't, that means someone's been there who wasn't supposed to be."

Stranger: Lestrade froze, his heart stopping. "Do you think... Moran..?" Lestrade forced out, his voice hoarse.

You: Mycroft thought furiously, his lips moving silently. "I hope not," he finally said. "But there is always that possibility. We need to go, now." He stood up and hurried into the foyer, grabbing his coat from the closet.

Stranger: "Oh, no, Mycroft," Lestrade said, standing in front of him so he couldn't get to the door, putting his jacket on at the same time. "I'm not letting you go."

You: "Greg, if Moran has already found the safehouse, you're going to need help," Mycroft growled. "And I'm not leaving John alone there or putting you in any more danger than need be."

Stranger: "Mycroft, if Moran sees you, John and I will be in even more danger, not to mention you. He'll kill John and I on the spot and go after you, if not killing you as well. I'm not letting you go just to lose you," Lestrade growled, placing his hands on Mycroft's shoulders.

You: Mycroft glared at Greg, anger and worry skating over his face. Finally, his shoulders slumped and he looked away. "Fine, I'll stay here," he said softly, gripping Greg's forearms. "But you need to be careful. Make sure you're armed when you go."

Stranger: "I have my gun in my car. Don't worry, babe, I'm trained for this kind of stuff," Lestrade said, kissing Mycroft quickly. "If I need help, I can call Donovan and Anderson for backup."

You: "Call me when you get there and have made sure John is safe," Mycroft ordered, pulling Greg into a hug. He let the other man go as his phone rang yet again, rolling his eyes in it's general direction.

Stranger: "I will, I love you, babe," Lestrade pecked Mycroft on the lips once again and rushed out the door, jumping in his car.

You: Mycroft headed back into the kitchen to answer his phone, prepared to wage war with anyone who tried to get in his way. And figure out who could possibly have been at the safehouse before Greg got there.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled into a spot outside the safehouse maybe a little too quickly for comfort, and jumped out. He rushed up to the door and knocked, waiting for John to open the door.

You: John opened the door after checking who it was and stepped back in surprise when Lestrade pushed him back inside. "What's wrong?" John asked, all his senses screaming danger from Lestrade's actions.

Stranger: Lestrade pushed past John and started scanning the flat. "John, tell me, how was this place when you came in. Was it this clean?" Lestrade asked, checking for dust, but not seeing much.

You: "It was empty and yeah, clean," John said, following Lestrade through the flat with a confused look on his face. "What are you looking for, Greg?"

Stranger: "Damn it," Lestrade cursed, pulling out his phone and sending a quick text to Mycroft. Flat's clean. Been this way for a while. What do we do? -GL

You: Get out of there. Bring John here. This appears to be the safest place for him now. And ask him if he's talked to anyone new lately. - MH

Stranger: "John, get your things, will you?" Lestrade said, reading Mycroft's text, his voice urgent. "I'll explain later."

You: John didn't waste time on questions. He just grabbed his laptop case and clothes bag, neither of which he'd gotten around to unpacking yet. He followed Lestrade outside and couldn't help looking around furtively. He felt like he was back in the desert, possibly about to get shot at any moment.

Stranger: "Come on, John. Give me those and get in the car," Lestrade said, taking John's bags and putting them into the trunk. He shut the back and climbed into his seat, pulling away from the curb quickly.

You: As John walked around the car, a muffled thump and whoosh came from deep inside the house. As he turned to look at the building, a wall of fire burst out the windows. He and Lestrade ducked behind the car as glass rained down on them. Once John could look back up, he saw the fire licking at the second floor, rapidly consuming the first. "Oh my god," John whispered, staring at the conflagration. "I'm so glad we got out when we did."

Stranger: "Are you alright, John?" Lestrade asked, looking him over for glass.

You: "I'm fine," John said, shaking his head and dislodging some glass. "How about you? You all right?"

Stranger: Lestrade nodded before feeling the warm rush of blood running down his arm. He looked at it to see shards of glass lodged in his skin. "Damn it," he cursed quietly, running soft fingers over the blood.

You: John batted Lestrade's hand away as he pulled the wounded arm closer. He studied it and cursed the fact that he didn't have his medkit with him. "It's not all that serious," John pronounced. "But we need to get that glass out and clean it. We going back to your flat?"

Stranger: "Yeah, I'll be fine to drive, it's only a five minute ride," Lestrade hissed. "I love that you're a doctor sometimes."

You: "Yeah, me too," John said, smiling slightly. "But you aren't driving. I want you to sit and not move that arm as much as you can." He pushed Lestrade lightly towards the passenger door and got in the driver's side.

Stranger: Lestrade sighed and got into the passenger seat, closing the door and making sure not to move his arm. He leaned back in his seat as the pain started the throb lightly, causing him to hiss.

You: John held out his hand for the keys and started the car when Lestrade handed them over. He drove quickly to Mycroft's flat, pulling far up in the driveway so that they were the least visible from the street.

Stranger: Lestrade got out slowly, John walking ahead of him. He heard John knock on the door as he made his way up the stairs, and the door opening as he made it to the top.

You: "Mycroft, are you here?" John called inside. "I need a medkit if you've got one. Water and bandages if you don't."

Stranger: Lestrade went over and sat on the couch, nursing his throbbing arm in his lap and listening to the mutter of far off voices in the kitchen, then banging of bowls and the running of a tap. He lifted his head to Mycroft and John coming out of the kitchen, moving over to him.

You: "This is probably going to hurt," John warned him, sponging the blood off his arm. "I need you to hold as still as you can."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded and turned his focus to Mycroft, who had sat next to him on the couch. "Hey, babe," he smiled lightly, trying to get the worried look off his boyfriend's face.

You: Mycroft took Greg's other hand as he watched John pull the glass out carefully. Greg winced as some of the larger pieces came out and was surprised at how many had been embedded in his arm. "What happened?" Mycroft asked once all the glass was out.

Stranger: "The safehouse literally burst into flames," Lestrade said, wincing slightly as John cleaned the cuts. "Moments after we got out, too."

You: "A bomb?" Mycroft asked. John shook his head as he finished cleaning the cuts. "I don't think so," John said, looking up at Mycroft. "There was no explosion, per say. It might have been a gas leak."

Stranger: "I think he's after him, Mycroft," Lestrade said slowly, giving Mycroft a worried glance and tightening his grip on his lover's hand. "Or at least trying to coast you out of hiding."

You: "Sounds like it," Mycroft said. "Though I'm worried about how he got the information. John have you talked with anyone knew? Seen anyone following you?"

Stranger: John shook his head, thinking. "No, not that I'm aware of," John said, bothering his bottom lip. "I haven't been out much but to see Moran."

You: "Then he might have bugged the flat while you were out," Mycroft mused. "Greg, you have equipment to scan for bugs at New Scotland Yard, right?"

Stranger: "Yeah, I can grab it tomorrow at the end of the day if you like," Lestrade said, nodding. "But, Mycroft, you're not leaving the flat anymore. It's too dangerous."

You: "Fine, fine and neither is John," Mycroft replied squeezing Greg's hand. "We need to figure out what's going on with this."

Stranger: "Right, so if you guys need anything you tell me, and I go get it," Lestrade said, looking between them. "I'm not losing either of you."

You: John taped the bandages he'd wound around Lestrade's arm in place and patted his knee. "I'm not going anywhere," John reassured Lestrade. "Believe me, I want to get revenge on Moran for what happened to Sherlock."

Stranger: "Good," Lestrade said, the pain in his arm subsiding. He wrapped an arm around Mycroft's waist and pulled him closer.

You: "I'm glad you're alright," Mycroft murmured, pressing his face into Greg's neck. "You need to be really careful when you leave here. I know this flat is safe because I have Anthea sweep for bugs every other day."

Stranger: "Then maybe John should just stay here, instead of us trying to find him another safehouse?" Lestrade said, leaning his head on Mycroft's.

You: "Yes, that's probably for the best," Mycroft agreed. He smiled his thanks at John as the doctor cleaned up the bloody cloths and bowls. "And I'll have Anthea bring us more supplies when we need them. I don't want you leaving unless you absolutely have to."

Stranger: "I still need to go to work, though," Lestrade said, playing with Mycroft's fingers. "I have to leave for that."

You: "I'm thinking of calling the superintendent and calling in another favor for vacation time for you," Mycroft said darkly, anger at Moran growing. "He knows all about you and your team."

Stranger: "But if I want to be able to be off more than just one day around our wedding, I have to go in," Lestrade frowned, leaning his forehead against Mycroft's shoulder.

You: "Instead of arguing over this, why don't I call him and tell him I have some information?" John suggested, coming back from cleaning up. "Then I can deal with him myself. Drop some poison in his drink or something."

Stranger: Lestrade shrugged and looked at Mycroft. "It's up to you, you call the shots, love."

You: Mycroft sat back and studied John as he deliberated. He knew this was something Sherlock would be adamantly against but it just might work. And be the easiest way to deal with Moran. But considering how quickly the sniper had realized someone was following him, he may figure out that John was lying. "That would be extremely dangerous," he said. "There's no guarantee he wouldn't figure out that you know now."

Stranger: Lestrade shook his head. "I don't think it's a great idea then," he said. "I don't want something to happen to you."

You: "And isn't it my risk to take?" John asked, narrowing his eyes at Mycroft and Lestrade. "He trusts me right now. This may be our only chance."

Stranger: Lestrade sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "Fine, but we need a plan and we are taking extra steps just in case. It may be your risk, but it's all our fight."

You: "Good," John said, nodding as a pleased smile crossed his face. "What if I met him at the same pub we met at the first time? I don't think he would try anything in a crowded place."

Stranger: "Unless he slips poison in your drink," Lestrade muttered.

You: John laughed, a sad sarcastic sound. "Isn't that what I'm planning on doing to him?" he asked. "And Moran won't expect me to try to hurt him. He doesn't know who Mycroft is or that he's connected to me."

Stranger: Lestrade shrugged, "I'm just saying, he can still hurt you, no matter how many people are around."

You: "I know that and I know how to be cautious without letting on," John argued. "I'm not saying I walk in there as if I didn't have a care in the world, I'm just saying that I can do this easier than anyone else."

Stranger: "John, we're not saying you're not careful, we just don't want something to happen to you," Lestrade said, frowning. "We just worry about what Moran might do."

You: "I know," John said softly. "I know some of what he's capable of. And I won't let him just spike my drink. But I need to help with this. For Sherlock."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded, looking back to Mycroft. "For Sherlock," he repeated.

You: Mycroft sighed again, feeling as if he was the overly cautious parent trying to rein in excited 5 year olds. "Fine, but I'm going to fill the pub with my people," he said. "No sense letting you walk in with a bunch of strangers there."

Stranger: "And I'm going too," Lestrade said, gaining a glare from Mycroft. "I'm trained for this, love."

You: "He knows who you are," Mycroft said. "What if he sees you and assumes it's a trap? He could kill you or John or just escape into the wind again."

Stranger: "He has no idea who I am," Lestrade protested. "He knows who you are and who … your assistant is." Lestrade caught himself before revealing Sherlock in front of John. "He doesn't know me."

You: "But Gary had the envelopes with information on you and your team. Can you guarantee Moran doesn't have that information as well?" Mycroft asked, rubbing his fingers over the back of Greg's hand.

Stranger: "Well, I don't like the thought of leaving John alone with your people to help. Lord knows they've messed up before," Lestrade said, getting angry. "Hell, if they never told Moriarty those things about Sherlock, we wouldn't have this problem in the first place!"

You: Mycroft looked away, hiding the guilt in his eyes. He hoped fervently that John wouldn't say anything, would let Greg believe it had been an underling that told Moriarty everything he needed to destroy Sherlock's reputation. "My people are highly trained," he said instead. "They can protect John."

Stranger: "Wait, Mycroft - " Lestrade turned to John, a look of confusion on the man's face. "I thought it was you..."

You: Lestrade heard what John didn't say, putting the pieces together quickly. "You told Moriarty everything?" he asked, incredulous.

Stranger: Mycroft avoided Greg's eyes, trying to avoid answering the question. "Shall I … call my people?" He said, his voice small.

You: "Yeah, but don't give them a specific day," John said, tapping a hand on his knee while he thought. "I want to wait a couple days for Moran to get a little frantic and then call him."

Stranger: "You told Moriarty what he needed to know in order to kill Sherlock?!" Lestrade asked a little bit of anger flooding his tone. He ignored the conversation between Mycroft and John.

You: "John can you give us some time, please?" Mycroft asked quietly. He waited until John nodded and left the room before looking at Greg. "I'm sorry I never told you. But yes, I was the one who gave Moriarty the information about Sherlock. He would only talk if I reciprocated with stories."

Stranger: "What were you thinking, Mycroft?!" Lestrade asked, standing and beginning to pace. "It's your fault we're having to do this in the first place! Your fault John doesn't have Sherlock! Why did you do this?"

You: Mycroft hunched his shoulders in as Greg yelled, his head turning from side to side as he watched the DI pace. "I thought.... I thought I could control it," Mycroft admitted. "And he wanted stories of Sherlock's youth. I didn't think he could use them to hurt him."

Stranger: "You should have called me, had me come in and help!" Lestrade continued. "That's just it, you didn't think! You didn't bother to find out who you were up against! What he could do!"

You: "No I didn't," Mycroft said. "And I didn't call you because it wasn't your division. You had nothing to do with it. We barely knew each other at the time."

Stranger: "I could have sent people, Mycroft, to help you. People who knew how to get what they were looking for without a trade for someone's life! You knew me well enough to call me for something like that!" Lestrade stopped his pacing and stared at Mycroft. "I thought you were smarter than that, Mycroft."

You: "You're a homicide inspector, Greg, you don't deal with threats to national security. That's what I do," Mycroft replied, his voice still soft. "I didn't want to involve any more people than I had to and I have access to some of the best interrogators in the country. Moriarty would only talk to me."

Stranger: "Then why didn't you make stuff up?!"

You: "Because as adept as I am at lying, Moriarty could always tell," Mycroft admitted bitterly, his lip twisting in anger and guilt. "I had to tell the truth to pull out the nuggets of information I managed to."

Stranger: "Tell me, Mycroft, was it worth it?" Lestrade growled, getting into Mycroft's face. "Was it worth killing your brother and the love of his life?"

You: "How can you ask me that?" Mycroft asked, his voice rising. He didn't bother to hide the hurt in his eyes now, knowing Greg could probably see through it anyway. "You think I enjoy seeing both of them suffering because I miscalculated?"

Stranger: "I don't even know, Mycroft," Lestrade growled, sitting back down and dropping his face into his hands. "You should have been more careful. Did a background check on him or something."

You: "You're assuming I didn't," Mycroft exclaimed, rising to his feet in anger. "I do know my job, Greg! And there was no information on Moriarty. The only things I found were concerning Richard Brook!"

Stranger: Lestrade stayed quiet and just glared at Mycroft for a long period of time. "Then you shouldn't have done anything," Lestrade's growl was almost a whisper. "You should have waited until you actually knew something about the man. That would have been the smart thing to do."

You: Mycroft paced the room, unable to stay still as memories of the interrogations ran through his mind. "I didn't have the time to be patient," he muttered. "Moriarty had ruined several of my plans and I needed to find out what he was up to. I've already admitted to myself that he manipulated me and this has been my fault. What more can I do?"

Stranger: Lestrade sighed and stood up, moving over to Mycroft and folding him into a tight hug. "I'm sorry, Mycroft," he whispered. "The stress is just getting to me... It's getting to all of us..."

You: Standing stiffly in Greg's arms, Mycroft fought to pull his emotions back under control. Now more than ever, he needed to keep the Iceman persona Moriarty had taunted him with. "I know and I'm sorry," he replied. "I didn't want you to find out."

Stranger: "I would have found out sooner or later... But I shouldn't have yelled at you. You should be able to tell me these things without me freaking out like that," he said, letting Mycroft go when he realized he wasn't going to hug back and spoke down to their shoes. "I'm really sorry. I overreacted."

You: "No, you didn't," Mycroft sighed, moving to pace the room again. "And you've said nothing that I haven't thought a hundred times over the past almost two years. I understand your reaction, love. I'd probably do the same in your place."

Stranger: Lestrade sat down with a sigh, watching Mycroft pace the room. "It's not how I should have acted though. I should have been more - professional - about it," Lestrade said. "I got you all worked up now, too."

You: "I'm fine," Mycroft said, the lie rolling smoothly off his tongue. He didn't bother to look to see if Greg was buying it. "We just need to concentrate on Moran now since Moriarty is dead. The faster we deal with this, the better."

Stranger: "You know I can tell when you're lying, right?" Lestrade said, watching Mycroft with each step he took.

You: Mycroft stopped pacing to look at Greg, trying to smooth the worry from his eyes. "I know but at this point, I have no choice but to be fine," Mycroft said intensely. "I have to fix this."

Stranger: Lestrade stood and went over to Mycroft, resisting the urge to touch him, knowing he would only be rejected. "You don't always have to be fine around me," he said, his eyes full of care and worry. "I'm your boyfriend, and I'm here to help you when you're not."

You: Thinking about it, Mycroft decided he was tired of portraying the calm control he'd been. He reached out to Greg silently, brushing his hand gently.

Stranger: "How can I help?" he whispered, taking Mycroft's hand in his.

You: "I don't know," Mycroft said sadly. "The only way I know of to make this situation better is to deal with Moran. Let Sherlock go back to John and they'll both be happy again."

Stranger: Lestrade leaned forward and pecked Mycroft on the lips lightly. "And right now? How can I get you to calm down?"

You: "Can we drop the subject?" Mycroft asked, pressing another kiss to Greg's lips. "After I make one more phone call I would love to relax with a movie."

Stranger: "Sounds fun," Lestrade gave a light smile. "You can pick the movie, love. Want me to make tea?"

You: "Please," Mycroft replied, pulling Greg into a hug. Feeling the comfort and strength radiating from the other man made Mycroft wonder why he'd believed it was better to distance himself. "Thank you, love."

Stranger: "I love you, Mycroft," Lestrade smiled as he let the man go. He gave him one last peck on the lips and went to make the tea and find John.

You: "I love you, too," Mycroft murmured after him, standing for a few moments and collecting himself again. Once he had, he picked up his phone and called Anthea, anger flooding through him again at the thought of what had almost happened.

Stranger: Lestrade found John sitting in the kitchen and smiled at him as he moved to the counter to make tea. "We're going to be watching a movie, if you wish to join us. Tea?" Lestrade asked, starting to fill the kettle.

You: "Yes to the tea but no to the movie," John said, scrubbing a hand over his face. "I think I'm going to take a nap. Almost dying kind of takes it out of you."

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled and leaned against the counter, waiting for the kettle to start boiling. "True," he said. "We'll try to keep the movie down for you, then."

You: "Thanks and have fun," John yawned. He smiled at Lestrade then headed upstairs to the guest room he'd stayed in last time he was here.

Stranger: Lestrade turned back to making the tea, listening to the rumbling of Mycroft on the phone in the living room. He finished making the three cups and took John's up to him first. After, he came back down and took the remaining two cups into the living room, quietly moving around a pacing Mycroft and sitting on the couch, setting his lover's mug on the table and cradling his own in his hands, letting the warm steam fill his senses.

You: "Anthea, I need all the CCTV footage for all the cameras around the safehouse I'd set up," Mycroft said tersely. "Yes, I know that there was fire. Greg was there when it happened. Yes, that's part of why I need to know. Just email the footage to me, thanks."

Stranger: Lestrade watched as Mycroft hung up the phone with a huff, running his hand through his hair. "Come here, love," Lestrade said, patting the couch next to him and setting his own mug down.

You: Mycroft dropped his phone on the coffee table and sat down on the couch next to Greg, pressing close to him. As the anger finally burned away and he had nothing more to deal with, Mycroft started shaking with belated fear.

Stranger: "Hey," Lestrade whispered, wrapping his arms around the shaking man and holding him as close as he could. "It's okay. Everything is okay," he soothed.

You: Mycroft buried his head in Greg's neck and held on. "What if I'd lost you?" he whispered. "What if you and John had been a little slow leaving?"

Stranger: "But you didn't. We both made it out safely," Lestrade whispered, running a loving hand through Mycroft's soft hair. "You're not going to lose me if I can help it. I would do anything to make it back to you at the end of the day."

You: Mycroft rode the shakes out, his breath hitching. He didn't want to imagine living on without Greg and finally understood what his fiance had gone through when he'd been shot. "I'm sorry," Mycroft muttered through clenched teeth. "I tried not to fall apart like this."

Stranger: "Mycroft, love, you shouldn't have to hold it all in like you have been," Lestrade said, kissing the crown of Mycroft's head. "I'm here for you when it's all too much. You know I don't mind if you fall apart, 'cause I'm here to put you back together."

You: Mycroft peppered kisses on Greg's neck as he rubbed a hand over his side. "Thank you," he said, smiling at the cheesy remark. "You're the only one I've ever trusted enough to let the facade drop."

Stranger: "I'm glad it's me," Lestrade smiled, running a soothing hand over Mycroft's back.

You: "I am too. You have no idea how draining it can be to hold it all the time," Mycroft murmured. He looked up and realized that they'd been letting the menu screen on the DVD play for the last several minutes. "Ready for the movie?"

Stranger: "I am as long as you're better," Lestrade said, planting another light kiss to Mycroft's temple. "What did you choose?"

You: "I am, love," Mycroft assured him, hugging him hard. "And I chose something mindless: Rush Hour."

Stranger: "Never seen it," Lestrade said, shifting so he could sit up a little more and have Mycroft's head rest in his lap. "This okay?"

You: "Yes, it's fine," Mycroft sighed, relaxing into the warmth bleeding from Greg's leg. "And I think you'll like this movie, it's a comedy." He smiled as the opening scenes started.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled down at his lover and reached over to switch off the last lamp in the room. He played with Mycroft's hair as the movie played, laughing along with Mycroft and just enjoying himself. He was glad that at the end of a rough day, they could just sit down and do something as relaxing as watching a movie.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

You: Three weeks later and they were no closer to finding who had set up the safehouse to catch fire. The fire marshal had determined that the gas line to the stove was cut and a timer set to cause a spark. Lestrade was driving to the office, a double homicide pulling him in on his day off. "Mycroft, we'll find something," Lestrade was saying as he drove through a green light. He was so busy trying to reassure his fiance, that he never saw the truck that ran the red light and plowed into his car.

Stranger: The line went dead after a sickening crunching noise and Mycroft was frozen to the spot. "Greg?" He asked quietly, his heart pounding in his ears. "Greg?!"

You: A pedestrian called an ambulance while trying to help pull Lestrade from the wreck of his car. The DI was unconscious, his body battered and broken. The paramedics rushed him into the ambulance and to the hospital, working furiously to resuscitate Lestrade when his heart stopped on the way.

Stranger: A nurse got the records of Lestrade as he was pulled into the emergency room, one of the paramedics calling over his shoulder Lestrade's full name from a card in his wallet. She quickly ran back to the nurse's station and pulled his file up on the computer, finding his emergency number and calling Mycroft Holmes.

You: "Yes?" Mycroft asked, answering his phone. He listened to the nurse on the other end and rushed out to his car as soon as he heard that Greg was in the hospital. He was almost there by the time the call ended. Parking his car in the visitor's lot, Mycroft ran inside and found the nurse he had spoken to. "Greg Lestrade," he said tersely. "Where is he?"

Stranger: "Room 403, but he's currently under intense care, you can't visit," the nurse said, watching Mycroft as he panted. "It's very serious, and understand, the doctors are doing all they can to-"

You: "What happened?" Mycroft interrupted. "And what's wrong with him?" Mycroft's hand rose towards the nurse, unconsciously.

Stranger: "From what onlookers have told us, he was hit by a truck that blew through a red light. His car is smashed to pieces. He's suffering from a horrible concussion and many broken bones. The doctors are still unsure when he will wake, if he does," the nurse said, giving him a sorrowful glance, watching the worry painted on Mycroft's face. "I am so sorry, Mr. Holmes."

You: "No..." Mycroft murmured, the blood draining from his face. He wavered in place as the nurse blurred. This couldn't be happening. Greg had to be ok. "I want to see him," he said faintly.

Stranger: "Sir, you can't. The doctors are working very hard to revive him. His heart already stopped once on the way here and, luckily, they were able to bring him back," the nurse said, moving around from the station counter. "Sir, please, sit down, you look as though you may faint."

You: "Revive him?" Mycroft repeated, his legs folding underneath him. "Is he alive? I need to know if he's alive!"

Stranger: "Last I heard he was, but only barely," the nurse said, taking Mycroft's arm and moving him over to a chair nearby. "Do you want water, sir?"

You: "I... I don't know," Mycroft said, his mind completely blank. "Where is Greg? Can I see him?"

Stranger: "Sir, please - Hey, Cheri, grab a glass of water for this man will you? Thank you - Sir, listen to me, you can't see him. He's in a very crucial state that may determine if he lives or not," the nurse said, taking the water that was handed to her and nodding her thanks. "Here, drink this.

You: Mycroft took the cup and drank automatically, staring down at the floor. The nurse's words were finally penetrating the fog that had sprung up over his mind and sense was returning. "Thank you," he murmured to her. "Will you let me know as soon as I can see him? And call Molly Hooper? I believe she's working today."

Stranger: "Of course sir, I take it you are going to be waiting here?" The nurse asked, standing and moving back towards the desk and reaching over to grab a phone.

You: "Yes, I'm staying here. I'm not going anywhere until I can see him," Mycroft said to the nurse's back. He pulled out his phone and texted Anthea that he was going to be unavailable for the foreseeable future and could only wait. And pray.

Stranger: The nurse replaced the phone after calling Molly and turned back to Mycroft. "Is he a friend of yours?" She asked.

You: "He's my fiance," Mycroft replied flatly. His sense of composure was cracking like thin ice. "Can... can you tell me what his chances are?"

Stranger: "Fiance? My goodness!" The nurse said, not really showing any real shock. "I don't think I would be the right person to tell you that, really. I don't want to give you a false answer."

You: Mycroft nodded and tried to stand as he saw Molly walking up to him. His legs shook underneath him and Mycroft fell back onto the chair. "It's Greg, Molly," Mycroft said, voice breaking. "He's been in a car accident. It's bad."

Stranger: "Oh god, no," Molly said, sitting down next to Mycroft. "What happened? Is he alright?"

You: "The nurse told me a truck ran a red light," Mycroft explained, rubbing a hand over his stinging eyes. "His.... his heart stopped.... in the ambulance. The doctor's are working on him now. God, Molly what do I do?"

Stranger: Molly saw the tears before they started to fall. She folded the normally-unbreakable man into her arms and whispered lightly in his ear, "I'm sure everything will be okay. He'll be back in your arms soon, I know it. He's a strong man, Mycroft."

You: Mycroft leaned his head against her shoulder and let the tears burning in his eyes fall down his cheeks. "He has to have a strong base to fight from," Mycroft said sadly. "If his body's too broken..."

Stranger: "Mycroft, look at me," Molly said, gently pushing Mycroft back and holding him by the shoulders. "You're his strong base. He'll fight for you."

You: "I hope so," Mycroft murmured. He lapsed into silence then, his mind racing around the same thoughts.

Stranger: "He loves you, Mycroft. He wouldn't let anything take him from you," Molly whispered, brushing light fingers over Mycroft's cheeks to wipe away the stray tears.

You: Mycroft nodded and leaned into Molly again. Right now, he couldn't stay calm and serene. Right now, he needed the support. "We should call John," Mycroft said, numb fingers fumbling for his phone. "John should know what's going on."

Stranger: Molly gently took the phone from Mycroft's hand. "Let me," she whispered, flipping the phone open and going down Mycroft's list of contacts. "It'll be easier on you."

You: Mycroft could only nod again, staring at Molly's fingers on the keys. He listened as she found John's number and called him.

Stranger: "Hello? Mycroft?" John asked, answering his phone.

You: "He can't talk right now, John," Molly said sadly. "It's Molly. I have some bad news. You might want to sit down."

Stranger: "Is he okay? What's going on, where are you guys?" John asked, panic filling him quickly.

You: "Mycroft is ok, John. But it's Greg," Molly told him, her tone soft. "He was in a car accident and the doctors are working on him now. It was a bad one, John. You might want to get here."

Stranger: "God... I'll be right there," John said, taking his coat and running down the stairs, his phone held between his ear and his shoulder and he worked his coat on.

You: "We're in the second floor waiting area," Molly said as she heard traffic sounds through the phone. "Be careful getting here, John. See you soon."

Stranger: "Bye," John said, hanging up the phone and throwing it on the seat next to him. He drove quickly to the hospital and parked, running up the stairs two at a time and moving quickly to the waiting area.

You: Molly gave Mycroft his phone back but slipped it into his suit pocket when he almost dropped it. She watched for John and jumped up when she saw him stalking through the halls toward them.

Stranger: "Molly, Mycroft," John greeted before sitting next to Mycroft. "Are you alright?" he asked, as Mycroft just stared off into space.

You: "He's taking this hard," Molly murmured, patting Mycroft's shoulder. "He's been silent since mentioning calling you."

Stranger: "Was there any news on how Greg's doing?" John asked, looking up at Molly, his hand on Mycroft's knee.

You: "Not yet, no," Molly shook her head sadly as she sat back down. "But my friend Amelia is the nurse who called Mycroft. She'll let us know when anything changes."

Stranger: John nodded and turned his attention back to Mycroft, rubbing his leg around his knee gently, trying to comfort the man. If only Sherlock were here..., John thought keeping his eyes trained on Mycroft. Maybe Mycroft would feel a little better with family around.

You: John was good at silence, he'd learned to be. He sat with Molly and Mycroft, eyes snapping to the face of each nurse or doctor as they walked down the hallway they were sitting near. Several indeterminate minutes later, Amelia stopped in front of them and gave them a small smile. "He's stabilized," she said briskly. "But he's still unconscious. The doctor said one person may visit."

Stranger: John placed a hand on Mycroft's back as he looked to him and Molly. "Go," John whispered, giving Mycroft a small push as he stood.

You: Mycroft swallowed hard and followed after Amelia. He didn't see Molly move to take his chair and take John's hand in hers. He only had eyes for what was in front of him and soon Greg was all he saw.

Stranger: Amelia turned to leave the two men alone, closing the door behind her. Once the door was shut, the room was thrown into a hazy dim light. A lamp in the corner cast eerie shadows across the room and the blinds were drawn so no light could dance in from outside. Most of the overhead lights were off and the only noise came from the machines, which beeped slowly, matching the heartbeat of the barely-alive man on the bed. As Mycroft started towards the bed, his footsteps seemed to echo in the all too quiet room. It took him too long, time seeming to be standing still, to reach the chair that sat next to the bed, sit down, and take Greg's hand in his. "I love you," Mycroft whispered, caressing the chilled skin of Lestrade's hand with the pad of his thumb.

You: Lestrade was pale, his face criss-crossed with cuts from the glass of his windshield. He had a cast on both his arms and his right leg. The rest of him was covered in bandages and Mycroft could see that some had bled through. Lestrade also had a bandage around his head, arching over one eye.

Stranger: "You have to get better," Mycroft whispered, more to himself than to Greg. "I need you. I'm in love with you. You promised not to leave me... You promised..."

You: Silence met Mycroft's words, the machines ticking on heartlessly. Lestrade was deathly still in the bed, only his eyes moving underneath his lids. Mycroft sat there, rubbing his thumb over the back of Greg's hand and fighting back the tears in his eyes. That was how Amelia found him, 20 minutes later when visiting hours ended.

Stranger: Mycroft turned to the door when Amelia entered, his eyes red from fighting the tears. "I- I have to stay with him..." Mycroft whispered, not moving from his chair next to Greg.

You: "I'm sorry, hun, but you can't," Amelia said, her voice full of compassion. "But you can come back to visit tomorrow." She placed a hand on Mycroft's shoulder, urging him to stand.

Stranger: "I can't- I don't want to leave him..." Mycroft said, the tears finally running down his cheeks as he turned back to Greg. "I have to watch over him..."

You: "He'll be well taken care of," Amelia reassured him as she guided Mycroft out of the room. "I promise you that. He won't be left alone."

Stranger: Mycroft nodded and let himself be directed towards the waiting room, where Molly and John still sat waiting. They stood as he entered, and they both quickly gathered around him.

You: "He's alive but he looks so small. Vulnerable," Mycroft sobbed, finally falling apart. "He didn't move at all while I was there."

Stranger: "Oh, Mycroft," Molly whispered, pulling him into a hug. John placed a caring hand on the small of Mycroft's back and rubbed gentle circles theres. They were silent for a long time while Mycroft cried on Molly's shoulder.

You: Mycroft slumped back against John as he cried on Molly's shoulder. He couldn't be the strong, calm one anymore. Not with the love of his life lying unconscious in a hospital bed.

Stranger: John looked at Molly, her face obviously tired and starting to gain bags under her eyes. "Let's go back to the flat, Mycroft. It's late, and you need rest after what's happened," John said, watching Mycroft pull away from Molly's grip and furiously scrub at his eyes with his sleeve. John kept his hand on Mycroft's back. "Come on, I'll drive. We can get your car in the morning."

You: Mycroft allowed himself to be led out to John's car, absently thanking Molly. He got into the passenger side and John slid into the driver's side, turning to study Mycroft. "Are you going to be ok tonight?" John asked, concerned.

Stranger: "I don't... I don't know..." Mycroft stuttered, keeping his eyes fixed on the ring on his finger. The ring that bound him to Greg.

You: John started driving, glancing over at Mycroft every few seconds. "It'll be ok, Mycroft. You won't be alone tonight," John said reassuringly. "And we'll go visit Greg in the morning"

Stranger: "Th- Thank you, John..." Mycroft sniffed, his fingers caressing the ring absently. When he touched it, he could almost see and hear Greg down on his knees in his office, looking up at Mycroft with the box, asking him to marry him. Mycroft's eyes began to water again.

You: John let the rest of the ride pass in silence, knowing that memories were the only thing that would help Mycroft now. He pulled up in the driveway at Mycroft's flat and got out to help the elder Holmes out of the car when he made no move to do so himself.

Stranger: "Come on, Mycroft," John whispered, holding out his hand after opening his door. "How about we go upstairs and I make you a nice cup of tea?"

You: "No, I think I'm going to lie down," Mycroft muttered absently. He walked with John, following the pressure the doctor placed on his elbow.

Stranger: Do you want anything? Food? Water? Anything?" John asked, opening the door for Mycroft. "You were there for me when I was depressed, now it's my turn to help you."

You: "No, thank you," Mycroft said, smiling at John. "I just want to sleep. Hopefully when I wake up tomorrow, this will all have been a horrible dream."

Stranger: "Alright. Listen, you just call for me if you want anything at all, okay?" John said before he pulled Mycroft into a small hug. "It'll all be okay," John whispered before letting go and watching Mycroft head up the stairs to his bedroom.

You: John headed into the kitchen to make tea for himself. It was dark outside, several hours lost in the wait at the hospital. He knew he wasn't going to sleep tonight, needing to be awake in case Mycroft needed someone in the night.

Stranger: Mycroft shut his door and sat down on his bed, his body feeling numb. He fingered his phone out of his pocket and set it on the table beside his bed, toeing his shoes off as well. Laying down on the empty bed, his heart clenched again. No Greg to cuddle up to tonight, or the next night, nor the next. He didn't know how long he would be in the hospital for, but it already seemed like too long.

You: John busied himself in the kitchen, watching as the kettle heated slowly. When he couldn't sit still anymore, he went over to the spice rack Mycroft kept in his kitchen, took every bottle out, then proceeded to organize them again alphabetically. He jumped when the kettle whistled.

Stranger: Mycroft stared up at the darkened ceiling, his eyes watering. He couldn't cry anymore, it was physically impossible after all he had already. Turning his head towards Greg's spot, he took the pillow Greg normally used. Hugging it to his body, he curled into a ball on his side and just breathed in Greg's scent, tears just barely running down his cheeks.

You: John poured himself tea and left the kettle on the stove as he went back to sorting the spice bottles. He knew that they didn't even need it; Mycroft kept a very orderly kitchen. John just needed something to occupy his hands with so that he wouldn't fall too far into his thoughts.

Stranger: The room lit up from Mycroft's phone dancing on the table. Not letting go of Greg's pillow, he reached over and picked up the device. Has Lestrade or Anthea found anything on Moran? -SH

You: Anthea hasn't found anything yet. And Greg- he's in the hospital. He got in a car accident. - MH

Stranger: What? Is he okay? -SH

You: He's alive. Barely. And unconscious. They don't know if or when he'll wake up. - MH

Stranger: I'm so sorry. -SH

You: Thank you. Can we talk tomorrow please? - MH

Stranger: Sure, but first, are you okay? -SH

You: I'll be fine, Sherlock. Right now I just want to sleep. - MH

Stranger: Alright, text me if you need me. Night. -SH

You: Thank you again and good night. - MH. Mycroft placed his phone on the nightstand, flipping it over so the light didn't shine in his eyes anymore. He closed his eyes and tried not to think about Greg lying in the hospital alone.

Stranger: The night was long and went by too slowly. Mycroft hugged Greg's pillow tightly but was never able to truly fall asleep. He shut his eyes a few times, just laying in the dark, but the emptiness of the bed kept pulling him back, forcing him to remember that he was alone. That Greg wasn't with him.

You: John watched the sun come up as he was rearranging the spice rack for the fifth time that night. The tea he had poured had gone stone cold at his elbow and John kept checking his phone for any updates from Molly. When the sun was peeking over the rooftops, he decided to check on Mycroft.

Stranger: Mycroft heard the knock on his door but decided to ignore it. His eyes were raw and red from the combination of lack of sleep, and from the slow, steady flow of tears that kept escaping down his face. He held Greg's pillow tighter as the door opened.

You: "Mycroft?" John called softly, spotting the man lying on the bed. "It's about 7. We can head up to the hospital if you want."

Stranger: Mycroft groaned and turned over onto his back. "I don't know if I want to see Greg like that again..." Mycroft said, covering his eyes with the heels of his palms. "I want to be with him, but I don't know if I can handle it..."

You: "You can," John reassured him, still standing in the doorway. "And you'll have me and Molly there. Trust me, it helps to be near."

Stranger: Mycroft sat up after a few moments, still fully dressed in yesterday's wear. He rubbed his eyes and nodded. "I need to be with him, even if I can't handle seeing him like that... He needs me there. Besides, this may be the last time I can-" Mycroft cut off, swallowing deeply, the pain flaring up in his chest again. "I can see him..." He finished quietly.

You: John felt his heart breaking at the sheer surrender in Mycroft's voice. He seemed to believe that Lestrade wasn't going to make it. "You can't think like that," John said when he found his voice again. "You have to know that he's going to be fine. Greg is going to fight this."

Stranger: "I know..." Mycroft said at length, staring off at the far wall. "Er, at least, a part of me does... But the other part is saying he's not going to. The other part of me is telling me that he will die in the hospital when I'm not there. That I'll never get to marry him or take him across England like I promised him... If he dies... So does my heart..."

You: "You'll get your chance Mycroft," John replied, moving into the room. He patted Mycroft on the shoulder and continued, "He's going to be fine. You just have to give him time."

Stranger: "I hope so," Mycroft said, looking up at John. He stood and sighed, looking down at his messed up clothes. "Give me a few minutes to change?"

You: "Sure, just come on downstairs when you want to leave," John said, backing out of the room. "You want any breakfast?"

Stranger: "No thank you," Mycroft shook his head. "I just want to go to the hospital. But if you wish to eat, don't let me hold you back."

You: "All right," John nodded and closed the door, heading back downstairs to clean up his teacup.

Stranger: Mycroft changed and moved slowly down the stairs, finding John sitting at the table. He sat down across from him and messed with his ring again as the other man ate.

You: John finished quickly, trying not to watch Mycroft fiddling across the table. He had an idea of how the man was feeling but was envious that Lestrade was still alive. He squashed that feeling and gave Mycroft a heartening smile. "You ready to go?" he asked when he was done.

Stranger: Mycroft nodded and stood, taking his jacket and wrapping himself in it's warmth. He waited by the door for John.

You: John shrugged into his own jacket and led the way down to his car. He didn't trust Mycroft to drive so he took the driver's side.

Stranger: Mycroft got into the car and watched as the buildings passed them. His mind was focused on Greg, memories of just cuddling up at night or watching a movie playing through his head. He touched the ring again, as if doing so would ensure Greg's recovery.

You: John drove in silence and parked in the visitor's lot at the hospital. He walked with Mycroft up to the entrance, watching the other man carefully to make sure he didn't stumble.

Stranger: Mycroft went up to the nurse's station and signed in before turning to the nurse who ran the counter. "Is only one allowed to see Greg Lestrade still? Room 403?"

You: The nurse checked her records and shook her head. "No, he's allowed up to three visitors but only during visiting hours," she said, handing Mycroft a visitor's pass.

Stranger: "Do you want to come?" Mycroft asked John. "I would like it if you were with me... I'd rather not be completely alone right now..."

You: "Sure, I'll go with you," John said, nodding. He took another pass from the nurse and they walked through the hospital to Greg's room. They saw Molly sitting in the chair next to the bed.

Stranger: "Morning, Molly," John greeted as she stood and moved towards him, Mycroft moving over towards Greg's bed and taking his chilled hand. "Any news on his health?"

You: "No change yet," Molly said softly, looking back at Mycroft with compassion in her eyes. "But the doctor's are sure he's going to survive."

Stranger: "Is it for certain?" Mycroft asked, his voice low and his fingers caressing Greg's forehead lightly.

You: "Yes, they're sure," Molly said, raising her voice slightly. "But they don't know when he'll wake up. He's in the coma because of the extensive damage to his body."

Stranger: "But he'll live..." Mycroft whispered, kneeling down next to the bed and smiling up at Greg's face, tears of relief sparkling in his eyes. "Thank God..."

You: "He's not going anywhere," Molly told him, smiling at John. "Greg is strong and he was fairly healthy before the accident." John hugged Molly lightly and then watched as she grabbed her laptop and left. She still had her final reports to write up before she could go home.

Stranger: John went to sit in the chair next to the bed, smiling at Mycroft as he stroked Greg's face with loving touches. "I told you he'd be fine," John said quietly, the smile hinted in his tone. "He loves you, nothing can pull you guys apart."

You: "I hope you're right," Mycroft whispered. "But if he never wakes up, we'll still be apart. I just have to believe that he will wake up."

Stranger: "He will," John said, touching Greg's bed. "You know he will."

You: Mycroft nodded and brushed his fingers through Greg's hair. The bandages had been changed sometime during the night so they were no longer blood-spotted.

Stranger: John watched as Mycroft brushed a quick kiss to Greg's forehead. Memories of Sherlock rushed him suddenly and he remembered all the times he wanted to just brush his lips across the Holmes' delicate, pale skin. How many times he wanted to caress his hand with his fingers.

You: Mycroft murmured promises to Greg alternating with begging him to wake up. He didn't want to imagine him lying here for days on end and more tears flowed the longer he talked. He twined his fingers carefully with Greg's and just held on.

Stranger: John closed his eyes and just listened to the quietness that coated the room. He listened to the machines around them beeping quietly, and Mycroft's soft, loving words. It was all too peaceful for such a heavy atmosphere. What if Greg never woke up? What if it was just himself and Mycroft, both alone and depressed? Both having lost the loves of their life.

You: Unaware of the time passing, Mycroft started when a nurse walked into the room. He stood, his legs trembling from having stayed in one position for far too long. The nurse efficiently checked the bandages and the machines, making sure everything was fine before noting the chart and leaving the room.

Stranger: "Mycroft, it's almost noon," John whispered gently, moving around the bed and placing a hand on his friend's shoulder as Mycroft kneeled back down next to Greg. "I know you want to stay here with him, but he would want you to eat something."

You: "I'll be ok John," Mycroft said, shrugging John's hand off his shoulder. "Feel free to go get lunch if you'd like. I'm not leaving."

Stranger: "Would you at least eat something if I brought it back for you?" John asked, putting his hand in his pocket.

You: "Sure, I can do that," Mycroft said absently, taking Greg's hand again. He didn't look up as John left the room, all his focus on Greg.

Stranger: John made his way to his car and started it, pulling out of the parking lot. He couldn't help but think of Sherlock when he saw Greg and Mycroft together. They were just so perfect and cute together, it made him wonder if people would have - or had - thought they were too.

You: Another indeterminate amount if time later, Mycroft heard footsteps walk back into the room. They weren't the footsteps of the nurse nor John's limp so Mycroft looked up to the doorway. His mouth dropped open when he saw Sherlock standing there.

Stranger: "How's he doing?" Sherlock asked, moving farther into the room and taking the seat John occupied only minutes ago.

You: "Molly said he's in a coma because of all the injuries," Mycroft said, his voice breaking. "They don't know if he'll wake up."

Stranger: "If?" Sherlock repeated, a bite of fear in his tone. "If he'll wake up?"

You: Mycroft shrugged and turned back to Greg. "There's a chance he never will," Mycroft said blankly. "Molly says he'll fight but he looks so vulnerable right now."

Stranger: Sherlock hummed and looked back at Lestrade. His skin was pale and his form completely lifeless. "He's strong," Sherlock muttered, looking over Lestrade's whole body. "He has to be okay. He has to wake up."

You: "So everyone keeps saying," Mycroft murmured, anger threading his voice. "You probably don't want to stay long. John just ran out to get lunch. He'll be back soon." Mycroft rubbed his thumb over the back of Greg's hand in the familiar gesture he'd done hundreds of times before. Though no comfort came from it this time.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded, standing. "Then I should get going. Text me if you need anything," Sherlock said, moving around and placing a hand on Mycroft's back. "I mean that."

You: "Thank you," Mycroft replied, his voice still flat. Right now, he couldn't find it in himself to care about anything other than sitting here and waiting for Greg to wake up. He didn't look up as Sherlock left and another nurse came in to administer medicine.

Stranger: John sighed as he pulled back into the parking lot of the hospital, turning off his car. He glanced over at the buildings around him and at the sidewalk, his vision catching the glint of a familiar face. John remember who he was at once, the man he talked to outside the coffee shop that looked so much like... him.

You: "Hey, wait!" John called, walking quickly after the man, balancing the bag with lunch in his hand. "I want to talk to you!"

Stranger: Sherlock turned at the sound of the familiar voice and his heart dropped, seeing John stop, breathless, in front of him. He cleared his throat before replying in a voice not his own, "Yes? Do I know you?"

You: "I'm John. You're... Dean, right?" John asked, holding out his free hand. "We met at a coffee shop about 6 months ago, I think?"

Stranger: Sherlock swallowed, his mouth suddenly going dry. "Yeah, I remember you," he said, taking John's hand. Just the friendly gesture made his heart skip a beat. "What did you want to talk about?"

You: "I just wanted to say hi, I guess," John said, the indifference in the other man's voice pushing him away. "I recognized you and you really remind me of someone. That's all."

Stranger: "I believe you mentioned that last time we met, as well," Sherlock said, having to clear his throat again. Was London going through a heat wave?

You: "Yeah, sorry. It just struck me again," John muttered, looking away. "Anyway, I guess I should go. I've got a friend in there." He jerked his head toward the hospital, sadness darkening his eyes.

Stranger: "Oh?" Sherlock asked, shifting his weight to his other leg. "What happened, if you don't mind me asking?" He was so adorable. Sherlock's body was screaming just to touch him, it took all he had to not do so. He knew he shouldn't be standing here, but he needed this.

You: "He was in a car accident," John replied, looking back at Dean. "He's alive but unconscious. No one knows when he'll wake up." John sighed as he remembered Lestrade lying in the hospital bed.

Stranger: "I'm so sorry," Sherlock said, shifting his weight again. "Someone... Special?"

You: "He's a good friend," John replied, studying Dean curiously. He was wondering why he kept fidgeting. "I don't like losing friends, not after.... losing my best friend. I've lost too many people now."

Stranger: "You lost your best friend? I'm sorry," Sherlock said, his eyes tender.

You: "Yeah, I told you about him last time I think," John replied, rubbing a hand over his face. "And thanks."

Stranger:"What was he like?" Sherlock asked. He needed to hear John just say it. Just once. "I'm guessing he was special to you, anyway, by the way your eyes get a sad twinkle to them when you talk about this person."

You: "He was.... amazing and brilliant and mad and insufferable," John said, the first words in his mind falling from his tongue. "He saved me, gave me a reason to keep fighting."

Stranger: "Sounds like you really cared about this man," Sherlock noted, not allowing himself to smile at everything John was saying.

You: "Yes," John said simply, nodding his head. "I loved him and the thought that he's no longer here is still devastating to me."

Stranger: Sherlock's heart jumped at the words. Just hearing them fall from those lips was enough reason to go jump for joy. "It sounds like it," he said, trying to retain his happiness. "And now you have this friend of yours to take care of, which, I'm guessing, you want to get back to, before that food gets cold." He indicated the bag in John's hand with a slight nod.

You: "Right, though the food is for my other friend. Mycroft's engaged to the friend who was in the accident," John clarified, something in him prompting him to continue talking to this man. "You mind if we meet sometime and talk? It's... nice talking to someone else for a change."

Stranger: He had to say no, it was too dangerous. "Sure," he said before he could really tell his lips what to say. "Meet me at the coffee shop again this time next week?" Sherlock asked, checking his watch.

You: "I can do that," John nodded. He pulled out the notebook he still carried and wrote down his number. "This is my number. Feel free to call me if you need to change the time."

Stranger: "Mind if I text you? It's easier with my job and all," Sherlock said, finding any excuse just to talk to John. He knew Mycroft was going to chew him out for this.

You: "Sure, texting is fine too," John smiled, remembering Lestrade complaining about how Sherlock used to mass-text the journalists during press conferences.

Stranger: Sherlock gave him a smile and held his hand out to him. "See you next week then," he said.

You: "See you then. Thanks for this, by the way," John said, shaking his hand. "It probably seems a bit strange to you."

Stranger: "It's not a problem," Sherlock said as John released his hand and he was forced to lose contact with him once again. "Any excuse I can use to get a nice cup of coffee in the mid-afternoon."

You: *mind if we switch to notes? I have to do stuffs* X) "Well, as long as I can do something nice for you," John replied, smiling wider. "I should get back. Goodbye, Dean."

Stranger: "Bye, John," Sherlock watched John's back until he couldn't see it anymore. The smile that crept across his face was easily large enough to make him look very weird walking down the sidewalk and back to Molly's flat.

You: John headed back up to Lestrade's room and saw Mycroft kneeling down next to the bed again. He walked in quietly and started pulling out the food he'd bought.

Stranger: John kneeled next to Mycroft a handed him the food, laying a soft hand on his shoulder. "You promised me you would eat," he reminded him, pushing the food closer to him.

You: Mycroft looked up at John, his eyes red from the force of unshed tears. He nodded woodenly and took the container. Opening it, Mycroft discovered fried rice and the smell made his stomach growl. Taking a spoon, he started eating and turned his gaze back to Greg.

Stranger: John moved around the bed and sat in the chair across from Mycroft. He watched Greg's face for a while, seeing how cold and lifeless it really looked and his stomach flipped as he was painfully reminded of Sherlock's lifeless eyes staring up at him.

You: Mycroft ate quickly and efficiently, not deriving any enjoyment from the food that he normally would. Every once in awhile, his gaze would sweep down Greg's form, looking for any sign of movement. He almost choked on his rice when he saw Greg's finger twitch.

Stranger: Seeing Mycroft jump from his spot on the floor and almost dumping his food all over the ground to get back to Greg's bedside made John jump to his feet, figuring something was wrong. Mycroft was gripping the blanket that covered Greg's form along the edge and was scanning his body with begging eyes. "Mycroft?" John asked, the doctor in him coming forth once more. "What's going on?"

You: "His finger moved," Mycroft said urgently, gripping Greg's hand. "I saw him move. John, he has to be waking up. I saw him move."

Stranger: John sighed and moved around the bed to place a caring hand on Mycroft's shoulder. He saw the hope in the man's eyes burning. "It may still be a while, but it is a positive sign. I'm going to call a nurse in here, alright?"

You: "Ok," Mycroft replied, still scanning Greg's face. His eyes were still moving behind the lids, but sluggishly as if he was barely dreaming. But Mycroft was sure he'd seen Greg's finger move.

Stranger: John pressed the call button and waited, not removing his hand from Mycroft's shoulder, as a nurse came in. "My friend here thinks he saw Greg move," John explained, eyes locking with the nurse as she entered the room farther.

You: "It is possible," the nurse said cautiously. "What happened?" She moved to examine Greg, opening his eyes and shining a penlight in them and checking the machines.

Stranger: "His finger moved! I saw him move! He has to be waking up, doesn't he?" Mycroft asked urgently, his eyes leaving Greg for half a second to look up at the nurse. He looked back down at Greg, taking his hand tighter in his.

You: The nurse examined Greg further and waited a few minutes to see if he would move again. "I'm sorry but he doesn't appear to be waking up yet," she said finally. "Sometimes the muscles spasm in coma patients. But don't give up hope yet." She noted the chart and left the room.

Stranger: Mycroft's shoulders slumped a little. "I really thought... he was waking up..." Mycroft whispered, loosening his grip on Greg's hand.

You: "You can't give up on him," John said softly, squeezing Mycroft's shoulder. "It's only been a day, Mycroft. He just needs time."

Stranger: "I know you're right-" Mycroft sighed, his thumb rubbing the back of Greg's hand. "I just want him back..."

You: "You'll get-" John started to say before he was interrupted by the beep of Mycroft's phone.

Stranger: Mycroft unpocketed the device and looked at the screen.

You: Sir, I think you need to come into the office today. There are several.... issues in some of the countries we've been watching. Your superior is requesting your expertise. - Anthea

Stranger: Tell him I can't. I have to stay with Greg. -MH

You: He's not accepting no for an answer. According to him, several pending treaties may fall apart if these issues escalate. Treaties you helped broker. - Anthea

Stranger: Mycroft sighed and looked back up at Greg. Fine, just give me half an hour and I will be there. -MH Without waiting for an answer, Mycroft stood and looked down at Greg, brushing a strand of hair out of his closed eyes. He leaned over and pressed a soft kiss to Greg's forehead. He took his coat, turning to John. "I have to go into the office," he said, buttoning the first two buttons. "Do you mind staying here with Greg? Just until I get back? I think I'm okay to drive and my car is still downstairs."

You: "I can do that," John nodded, giving Mycroft a smile. "Take the time you need. He won't be here alone."

Stranger: "Thank you, John. Text me, please, with any news." With one last glance back at Greg, Mycroft left the room.

You: John sighed as he sat back in the chair, slowly eating his lunch and watching Lestrade. He really hoped that whatever Mycroft had to do was over quickly. He couldn't be in the best frame of mind at the moment.

Stranger: Mycroft entered the office about twenty-five minutes later. He made his way up to his office, where he knew he could find Anthea.

You: "I'm sorry to call you in from the hospital," she said without preamble. "But the ambassadors are here, a huge argument raging. They want your influence to calm them down."

Stranger: Mycroft sighed as he started straightening his tie in a mirror he had in his office. "What's it over this time?" He asked in a flat tone. "Famine? Economy?"

You: "It would be appear to be over tariffs on imports and exports," Anthea said, her voice dry. "One says that they are too high and one says that they are too low."

Stranger: Mycroft sighed again and nodded his approval to his now-straight tie. "Is that all?"

You: "That's all I heard before I was sent to get you," Anthea admitted. She typed on her phone again before continuing, "They may have gone on to other things by now."

Stranger: "So you don't know what I'm going in to fix?" Mycroft asked, a bite of annoyance in his voice.

You: "I do not. I only heard the first part of the ongoing argument," Anthea said, annoyance flashing in her eyes. She disliked being unaware of anything that may concern Mycroft. It was her job after all. "They are in the south conference room."

Stranger: "Thank you," he said, moving to start heading that way. What could they possibly need him so badly for?

You: Mycroft heard the argument before he even opened the doors. The two ambassadors were standing on opposite sides of the long table, screaming at each other. Mycroft's superior looked up as the doors opened and shot him a grateful look as he stood.

Stranger: "Ah, Mycroft!" A hand was extended to him, which Mycroft took with a nod. "So glad you could make it. Sorry about calling you in on your family emergency."

You: "What seems to be the cause of the argument?" Mycroft asked softly, nodding towards the arguing ambassadors. He didn't feel the need to forgive his superior for the call. He didn't want to be here and was going to make that plain.

Stranger: "There has been a string of mysterious deaths going between the countries," he said, motioning for Mycroft to sit down next to him. "All have been set up to look like accidents, suicide or self defense, but in all of them, something seemed off. As you can see, we all have different ideas on what the actual cause of these are. Some believe there are terrorists attacking our people."

You: "Our people?" Mycroft repeated, staring intently at his boss. "Who has been killed? And what reports have been made of the crime scenes?" He tried to tell himself that it wasn't the snipers that his boss was talking about, but what else could it be?

Stranger: "We had three reports so far. One here in London, where a man was found dead after jumping out of his window. After a closer look, there was a wound where the man was hit on the head with a blunt object. The other two were made to look like break-in's."

You: "Who were they?" Mycroft asked, wishing he'd brought Anthea in with him to take notes. "I need to know who they are to determine if this is an attack against us."

Stranger: "The man here in London was an Eric Smith. The one killed in vancouver was a Gary King, and over in northern London was a Srechko Hunt. Killed within the past two years, all three of them."

You: "And what evidence have you found that connects these deaths?" Mycroft continued, trying to figure out a way to deflect the inquiries. The two ambassadors had finally stopped arguing to listen to the conversation.

Stranger: "They were the same killing patterns. Murders set up as suicides. There was really no other way to look at them."

You: Mycroft tapped his fingers on the table as he thought. As soon as he could, he needed to contact Sherlock and tell him to stay out of sight for a while. Though the fact that the three snipers had been part of the government was worrying him. "What part of the government did they work for?" he asked.

Stranger: "They didn't work for the government, they were all a part of the Afghanistan War about five years ago. Naturally, the government had them on a list, as you know."

You: "Yes, I remember that now," Mycroft murmured, relaxing fractionally. Perhaps this wouldn't be as difficult to play off as he'd first feared. "And what would you like me to do?"

Stranger: "I want you to watch over the operation to catch and kill whoever is doing this. We all agreed it's for the best and we all agreed you'd be best for the job, seeing your fiance is a DI in Scotland Yard and it'll be easy for you to stay close to the team."

You: "Kill whoever it is?" Mycroft asked, tilting his head to the side. "Wouldn't it be better to examine their methods, how they were able to accomplish this, and then possibly bring them into the fold? They obviously have skills I would find invaluable."

Stranger: His superior shook his head. "This man is very dangerous. We want him to be killed, we already all agreed it's for the best."

You: "Without consulting me?" Mycroft asked, annoyance threading his voice. "I thought I was to be consulted on all decisions relating to this area?"

Stranger: You were late," His superior growled. "Or else you would have been."

You: "So my position has deteriorated enough with my fiance in the hospital that I am no longer consulted before decisions are made?" Mycroft asked sarcastically, sitting back in his chair and glaring at his boss.

Stranger: "Look, we will gladly put someone else to oversee this operation if you feel so strongly about this. The decision has been made, like it or not. It is for the best and needs to be done. You are easy enough to replace in this sort of thing."

You: "No I don't want to be replaced," Mycroft sighed. "But I don't like when things like this go over my head. Now, what is the point of having these ambassadors here?"

Stranger: "This is a big deal and no one knows where he'll strike next. If it was in one remote area, it wouldn't call for anyone but us to be here, but seeing he's hitting countries all over-" He was cut off by the door opening and a tall, skinny, black haired woman walking in. She wore a tight, white skirt and a black blouse. "They found another one, sir," she said, setting a file in front of Mycroft's superior and quickly making her retreat.

You: "Another one?" Mycroft asked, staring at the file. "Another murder?" He didn't think that Sherlock had taken out Moran yet and he certainly hadn't.

Stranger: "Someone named... Kevin Anderson? He was a drug dealer and was in contact with Srechko before they were both killed."

You: "How are we coming by this information?" Mycroft asked. He had no idea who had put these deaths all together and wanted to hire the person if possible. Though an idea of how to deal with Moran was starting to form in his mind.

Stranger: "We have investigators working out on the field all over the world. They are the best their countries have."

You: Mycroft nodded and picked up the file. He scanned it quickly, noting how little evidence they actually had. Sherlock was good at covering his tracks. "I should get started on this," Mycroft said, standing. "This looks like it's going to be a lot of work."

Stranger: "As soon as Mr. Lestrade wakes up, please, talk to him to see if he can help you form a team," his superior called after him. "The more people you have, the more likely you'll find the murderers!"

You: "All right," Mycroft replied, trying to hide the hurt in his voice. He didn't want to think about Greg never waking up but that was the only image his mind would supply him. He pulled out his phone and texted Sherlock.  
Need to talk with you. Can I meet you at Molly's later tonight? We have a problem. - MH

Stranger: What's the matter? -SH

You: My superior has ordered me to deal with whoever is taking out the snipers. His analysts found a pattern in all of their deaths. - MH

Stranger: What are they supposed to do to those people? -SH

You: I've been ordered to kill whoever is killing the snipers. I had forgotten that my department has a list of discharged soldiers that we watch in case they ever become useful to us. All of the snipers were on the list. - MH

Stranger: Damn it... What are you going to do? You're not going to turn me in, are you? -SH

You: Of course not! Why would I do that? And I have a plan but it's a bit complicated. I want to explain it in person. - MH

Stranger: Thank you. Eight? -SH

You: Fine. I will see you then. If you need me before that, I'll be at the hospital. - MH

Stranger: Alright, how is he doing? -SH

You: His finger moved earlier today. But he's still not waking up. The rest of his injuries are healing, though. - MH

Stranger: That's progress, at least. What are the doctors saying? -SH

You: That I just need to give him time but prepare myself for the fact that he may not wake up. - MH

Stranger: I'm so sorry, Mycroft. -SH

You: Thank you. I just keep telling myself that he will wake up. I can't believe anything else right now. - MH

Stranger: Well, I'm here if you need to talk to anyone. -SH

You: I'll keep that in mind. And thank you for coming to the hospital but you may want to text me if you decide to come again. John may be there and you probably shouldn't run into him. - MH

Stranger: About that... -SH

You: What did you do, Sherlock? - MH

Stranger: I kind of ran into him on the way out... -SH

You: Did he recognize you? He didn't say anything when he came upstairs. - MH

Stranger: He recognized me, but not as Sherlock. He remembered me from the coffee shop. -SH

You: You are walking a dangerous line, little brother. If he ever finds out, Moran won't hesitate. - MH

Stranger: I'm meeting him for coffee next week... -SH

You: WHAT? That is not something you should do, Sherlock! John is not an idiot, he will recognize you eventually. Some mannerism or other of yours will tip him off. - MH

Stranger: Mycroft... I need this! Do you know how much I love him? How much I miss him? It would be like you being away from Lestrade for almost two years! You know how you get when you're away from him for a few days, try to imagine what I feel. -SH

You: I understand that, Sherlock and I can't imagine being without Greg for two years. But aren't you being a little reckless with his safety right now? - MH

Stranger: I know that, but what am I supposed to do? I feel like I'm dying without him. -SH

You: Just... just be careful. John's become a friend to me as well. And I don't have many that I wouldn't mind losing one. - MH

Stranger: I don't want to lose him either, Mycroft, believe me, it's the last thing I want. But if I don't do this, I'll go crazy... I'm going to be careful, let him do most of the talking, use a fake voice, all that. I promise. -SH

You: All right. And John probably needs someone now as well. He's still taking your death hard. - MH

Stranger: I know, I hate seeing him so broken. Thank you, at least, for watching over him. I know he's living with you and Lestrade right now... -SH

You: Yes, we didn't want him to be alone and considering doing something... hasty. You know John. He'd go after Moran with just his handgun and no plan. - MH

Stranger: I know... he's seen me do it many times... I'm glad he has someone holding him back. -SH

You: Difficult though it has been at times. He wants to use himself as bait for Moran because of his connection to Moriarty and IOU. - MH

Stranger: Please, tell me you told him no. -SH

You: I tried. Greg and I eventually talked him into waiting. Though I don't know what's going to happen now with Greg in the hospital. It seems like everything's frozen until he wakes up. - MH

Stranger: I don't want to upset you by making you think about this, but what happens if he doesn't wake up? What will we do? -SH

You: I don't know. Keep going after Moran, I guess. It's the only thing we can do. - MH

Stranger: Would you still help? -SH

You: Of course I would. I'd have to do something to keep from going mad. - MH

Stranger: I don't want to know what you'd do after it was done, then... -SH

You: I don't even know what I'd do. It's not something I want to think about. - MH

Stranger: Nor do I... Send Lestrade my best. -SH

You: I will. See you tonight. - MH

Stranger: See you tonight. -SH

You: Mycroft slipped his phone back into his pocket and headed out to where his car was parked. He drove back to the hospital, the car filled with a tense silence. When he got back up to Greg's room, he saw John sitting in the chair but Greg was in a different position. "Did he wake up?" Mycroft asked immediately, rushing forward to take Greg's hand.

Stranger: John jumped slightly at the sudden intrusion. "Sort of," he said, standing and running a hand through his hair. "He shifted and moaned, but I couldn't get him to respond to my touch or voice. Maybe you'd have better luck with that. I'm going to go grab a drink from the machine, you want something?"

You: "No, thank you," Mycroft responded. He rubbed his thumb over the back of Greg's hand, immeasurably heartened at John's news. Perhaps time really was all Greg needed to come back to him. Mycroft settled down on the edge of the bed, murmuring stories he thought Greg would be interested in.

Stranger: John smiled at the loving tone in Mycroft's voice. He exited the room and started towards a machine down the hall. He ducked into a bathroom first, going to splash water on his face.

You: Moran had finally gotten sick of waiting for John to get back to him. This thing was eating at him and he couldn't rest easy no matter where he was. Finally, he decided to just confront John face to face and possibly threaten him a little more. He opened the trace program he had on his computer and found the bug he'd planted on John's phone a month ago. When he located John, he went to St. Bart's and found him in the bathroom. "Hello, John," Moran drawled, his silky voice hiding the steel underneath.

Stranger: John wiped the water from his eyes and turned to Moran. He jumped and stumbled backwards, landing hard on his tail bone. "What... What are you doing here?" he asked, trying to keep his voice calm.

You: "Just came to see how you were coming on those two men who were following me," Moran said, leaning against the wall, his hand conspicuously on his hip. "It is rather important to me, you know."

Stranger: "I understand this," John said, forcing himself to his feet with help from a nearby sink. "But I need time to figure it out."

You: "You've had a month, John," Moran replied, his voice dropping a bit. He leaned forward and stared hard at the ex-soldier. "How much longer could you need?"

Stranger: "I-I don't know," John stuttered under the hidden anger in Moran's eyes. The hidden threats. "I just need... time."

You: Moran smiled at John, a feral grin that had no hint of humor in it. "I can wait another week. But not much longer than that. I would hate for anything... to cause you to spend more time here."

Stranger: John swallowed. "Wh-What?"

You: "After all, we were in the same unit," Moran said smoothly, tapping his fingers on his hip just above where a holster would rest. "If they are coming after me, they may be targeting you as well. Wouldn't want something unfortunate to happen, would we?"

Stranger: "No... I guess not," John muttered, trying to get the fear to leave his chest. "I'll... I'll work on it."

You: "Excellent, John!" Moran exclaimed, moving forward to clap John on the shoulder, a bit harder than necessary. "You know, if you come through on this, I know an organization that could use someone of your skills. And the pay is very good."

Stranger: John nodded slowly, flinching inwardly at the hard slap on the shoulder. His bad shoulder. "I'll text you when I find something," John said, keeping their eyes locked.

You: "Good, I just hope it's sooner rather than later," Moran said, dropping one more threat in the tone of his voice. "See you soon, John." He squeezed John's shoulder in an apparently friendly fashion and walked out of the bathroom. He had his own contacts to try to figure out who the two men were.

Stranger: John watched the door shut behind the man and sighed, releasing a breath he didn't know he was holding. His legs gave a wobble under him and he grabbed a nearby sink for support. Exiting the bathroom, he made his way back to Lestrade's room, obviously shaking.

You: Mycroft was still talking softly to Greg, trying to get him to wake up. He didn't notice the tears gathering in his eyes or the small hitch in his voice. He just wanted the man he loved to open his eyes.

Stranger: John entered the room and fell into the chair next to Greg's bed. He was shaking badly and both his shoulder and leg were painful to move.

You: Mycroft looked at John when he heard the small squeal from the chair moving suddenly. He saw the pale skin and trembling and asked, "John, what happened? Are you alright?"

Stranger: "M-Moran..." John swallowed, trying to regain himself. "He just..."

You: "He was here?" Mycroft asked sharply, turning completely to stare at John. "What did he say?"

Stranger: John couldn't stop the stuttered breathing as he answered. "Y-yes... He told me I had a week... That he'd hate if something were to happen that would make me... Stay here longer..."

You: "Take a deep breath, John," Mycroft ordered, placing Greg's hand gently on the bed. He put a hand on John's shoulder and waited until John could get his breathing under control.

Stranger: John breathed for a few moments before giving a long, deep sigh, finally calming himself down. He nodded when his heart rate dropped a little closer to normal rate. "I'm good..."

You: Mycroft nodded and removed his hand. It crept back towards Greg's, twining with his fingers. "What else did he tell you? Anything I need to know?" Mycroft asked.

Stranger: "He said something about an organization. Something about it could use someone with my skills," John said, running a hand over his eyes.

You: "I'm guessing he wants to recruit because most of his snipers are gone now," Mycroft mused. "Has he contacted you before now?"

Stranger: "Not about that," John shook his head. "Last I heard from him was a month ago."

You: "How did he know you were here then?" Mycroft asked reasonably. "Have you seen anyone following you?"

Stranger: "No, I haven't... I don't know how he found me," John said, worry starting to coil inside him again.

You: "The easiest way to track someone is to plant a bug on them," Mycroft mused, his thumb rubbing incessantly over the back of Greg's hand. "Can I see your phone?"

Stranger: John handed Mycroft his phone with a still-shaky hand. He watched as Mycroft looked it over.

You: Turning the phone off after not seeing anything different on the outside, Mycroft opened the back and popped the battery out. Underneath the battery rested a small black device, almost as flat as paper.

Stranger: John watched as Mycroft started working at something in the back of his phone. "Did you find something?" He asked slowly.

You: "Yes, I did. Now the question is what to do with it," Mycroft replied. He tilted the phone so that John could see the bug planted in his phone. "If we take it out, Moran will know you found it."

Stranger: "Can I just... Get a new phone?" John asked, taking the device and looking at the bug.

You: "That might be best. But keep this one charged and in the flat at Baker Street," Mycroft said, handing John the battery and the case. "As long as Moran believes he knows where you are, he will probably wait the week he gave you. That will give us time to figure out what you're going to tell him."

Stranger: John nodded and put his phone back together, powering it up. "I'll go plug it in back home now, it's starting to get late," John said, standing. "Visiting hours end at eight tonight, so shall I bring dinner back and we can eat around eight-thirty?"

You: "I actually have some work I need to catch up on," Mycroft said, dancing his way around what he was actually going to be doing. "Thank you for the offer but I'm probably going to be eating in my office tonight."

Stranger: "Oh, alright then. Should I just expect to see you in the morning, or are you going to be spending the night there as well and coming straight here after you're done?" John asked, taking his keys from the side table next to Lestrade's bed.

You: "I will probably be there tomorrow," Mycroft said, thinking how domestic this was all getting and chuckling a bit. "But I want to spend as much time here as possible. I want to be here when he wakes up."

Stranger: John smiled as he looked down at Lestrade. "I understand that. I'm sure he'd love to have you be the first thing he wakes up to," John said, going over to touch Mycroft on the shoulder.

You: Mycroft smiled and looked down at Greg's face. "I just want him to wake up," he murmured, knowing he was repeating himself and not caring. "I miss him so much. There's so much that we had planned."

Stranger: "And you'll do it all, too," John said, giving Mycroft's shoulder and caring shake. "He'll wake up and you'll have your wedding, go on your trip, have many happy nights together; everything you keep dreaming of together. Greg is alive and he's strong, Mycroft. He's fighting this and fighting to wake up, as you've seen. As I've seen. You know he'll wake up for you."

You: Mycroft leaned down to press a soft kiss to Greg's forehead as a nurse came in to tell him visiting hours were over. Mycroft sighed and walked out, sparing one last glance back before the door closed. "Have a good night, John," Mycroft said. "Feel free to take my car back to the house. I'm going to walk to my office."

Stranger: "Thanks, but I'm going to drive my car," John smiled, pulling Mycroft into a hug. "Everything will be okay," he muttered into his ear before letting go and giving him a soft smile.

You: "Thanks, John," Mycroft said, smiling back. He walked to the elevators and decided to drive over to Molly's since John had his own car here. The drive was quick, the streets fairly empty. When he knocked on the door, it was almost thrown open.

Stranger: Sherlock pulled Mycroft into the flat and slammed the door shut behind him. He continued his pacing, ignoring Mycroft as he took a seat and said hello to Molly.

You: "Molly would you mind making us some tea, please?" Mycroft asked, watching as Sherlock paced the room.

Stranger: Molly nodded and ducked into the kitchen with a smile at Mycroft. She busied herself with the tea.

You: Mycroft put up with Sherlock's manic pacing for a few more moments before snapping, "Sherlock, you need to calm down. Sit down on the couch, for goodness' sake!"

Stranger: Sherlock stopped and glared at Mycroft for a long moment before going over to the couch and sitting. "Happy?" he growled.

You: "Yes, thank you," Mycroft said as Molly came back in with the tea. He took a teacup from her and sipped at it, a small part of him enjoying watching Sherlock's discomfiture.

Stranger: "So what's this plan of yours?" Sherlock snapped, taking the mug from Molly and just holding it, the steam surrounding him.

You: "Someone needs to take the fall for what we did," Mycroft started, taking another sip. "So I was thinking, we could frame Moran for the other murders and then kill him. It would be sanctioned and we wouldn't have to worry about hiding it as much. My employees would do that bit for us."

Stranger: "I think that may work, but what about you?" Sherlock frowned deeper. "You'll just be in more danger."

You: "How would I be in more danger?" Mycroft asked, genuinely confused. "Moran wouldn't even need to know I was framing him. Anthea can create the evidence we need and then we can go after him."

Stranger: "Don't you think he would go after whoever was after him? Try to kill them before they kill him? What if he finds you?"

You: "Then I'll just have to deal with him. I'm not completely helpless, you know," Mycroft said dryly. "But if we do this carefully, he won't even know anything's wrong until he's dead."

Stranger: "I never said you were, but Moran isn't stupid. I just don't want something to happen to you."

You: Mycroft finished his tea before replying, a bit surprised at the concern from Sherlock. Apparently, they really had changed their relationship since Vancouver. "Neither do I. And I'm going to make sure Moran never sees us coming," Mycroft assured Sherlock.

Stranger: "At least let me help," Sherlock said, sipping his tea some more.

You: "I could use your help. I wasn't planning on doing it alone," Mycroft replied, refilling his cup from the pot on the tray. "You have far more experience in legwork than I do."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded, sipping his tea again. "When shall we start, then?"

You: "I think we need to get as accurate a picture of Moran's movements as possible," Mycroft said. "Then we can figure out how to finesse the information to show that he was the one who killed the other snipers and the drug dealer."

Stranger: "Should I follow him? Map out where he goes?" Sherlock asked, polishing off his tea and pouring himself another.

You: Mycroft thought about that for a few moments before the memory of the sketches in John's notebook decided him. "No, he knows what you look like," Mycroft replied. "I think, once we have the evidence in place, I'll have one of my underlings tail him."

Stranger: "Alright, will you be using Greg's team at all? I need to know who to avoid and when," Sherlock said, laying down along the couch and talking to the ceiling.

You: "No, I want them out of it," Mycroft said decisively. "Gary had profiles on all of them and we still don't know if Moran has all that information. It's best to leave them alone."

Stranger: "Well, would it be that bad if we lost Anderson? Really?" Sherlock smiled, chuckling.

You: "Well, I'm not arguing the point that the world might be slightly smarter without Anderson," Mycroft laughed. "But it's really not our place to put him in danger like that."

Stranger: "Well, that's too bad," Sherlock laughed, sipping his tea. "Do you know who you'll be choosing to work with?"

You: "I don't know yet," Mycroft admitted. "I'm tempted to use Anthea since Moran doesn't know her, but she's too valuable to me to put in danger."

Stranger: "Well, I Wouldn't say he doesn't know who she is," Sherlock said slowly. "Remember Srechko? He had information on everyone, even her, Anderson, and Donovan? Nothings to say Moran doesn't have them too."

You: Mycroft sighed and sipped his tea again. "You're right. I forgot about that," he admitted. He thought about his underlings, trying to decide who would be the best to follow Moran if they needed it. "I have one employee, a Pamela Blake, who might be perfect."

Stranger: "Send her, then," Sherlock nodded. "He won't know who she is, so it's perfect."

You: "If we get to that point, I will," Mycroft said. He wondered whether he should tell Sherlock that Moran had gotten in touch with John again and basically threatened him. The knowledge that Sherlock would want to know everything finally convinced him. "We also have one other problem," he said hesitantly.

Stranger: "What is it now?" Sherlock asked, sitting up.

You: Mycroft studied his tea, stalling for time while he put his thoughts in order. "Moran found John at the hospital. He'd put a tracking device in John's phone. He threatened him unless he got information on the two men who'd followed Moran. And apparently threatened John if he failed."

Stranger: Sherlock's breath hitched at the words. "No..." He muttered, bothering his lip. He stood and started pacing again, more frantic than before.

You: "Sherlock, John's all right," Mycroft tried to reassure his brother. "And we're going to make sure he stays that way. Moran won't lay a finger on him."

Stranger: "What are you going to do?!" Sherlock snapped. "We have a week to assemble this plan of yours in the hope he won't get away again!"

You: "And when have you ever known me not to meet a deadline?" Mycroft asked sardonically. He pulled out his phone and texted Anthea exactly what he wanted done. "There. Anthea should have everything we need in place in a couple days. John will be safe, you have my word, Sherlock."

Stranger: "Please... Make sure he is..." Sherlock muttered, bothering his lip and picking up his pace.

You: Mycroft let compassion flow across his face as he watched Sherlock pacing. "John's a friend to me, too," he murmured. "I'm not going to let anything happen to him.

Stranger: Sherlock sighed and sat down. "Thank you," he said, running a hand through his hair. "Speaking of friends, how's Greg doing?"

You: Mycroft felt a pained smile slip across his face at the thought of his fiance. "John said he moved and was muttering today," Mycroft replied. "I'm hoping he wakes up soon."

Stranger: "Did he say something audible?" Sherlock asked, watching the smile cross Mycroft's face sadly.

You: "John just said he was muttering," Mycroft said. "I stayed with him until the nurses kicked me out but he didn't say anything else." Mycroft stared down into his tea again, his thoughts on Greg.

Stranger: "But he will," Sherlock said, smiling softly. "He'll wake up soon, I'm sure."

You: Mycroft nodded and sipped at his tea. It had gone slightly cold, so he topped it up with more from the pot. "I think we've covered everything we need to, unless there's something you can think of," he said.

Stranger: "I think we're good," Sherlock said, placing his cup on the tray.

You: "Then I shall bid you both goodnight," Mycroft said, nodding to Molly. "It has been a long day and tomorrow will be just as long."

Stranger: "Should we plan on meeting tomorrow?" Sherlock asked, moving to walk Mycroft to the door.

You: "I don't think we need to, unless there's something else you think we need to go over?" Mycroft asked, pausing near the door.

Stranger: "No, unless something comes or you get new information," Sherlock said as he leaned on the doorframe. He crossed his arms over his chest and just looked at Mycroft seriously.

You: "Then I'm going to be coordinating with Anthea from the hospital," Mycroft said, looking back at Sherlock. "Is there something you want to say?"

Stranger: Sherlock shook his head slowly. "Not really, just... don't go off on your own, alright? I still want to have a part in all this."

You: Mycroft laughed dryly, shaking his head. "The last thing I'm going to do is go after him alone. I don't want him to kill me. You don't have to worry about that, Sherlock."

Stranger: "Okay, good," Sherlock said, nodding. "So text me if something comes up."

You: "Of course," Mycroft said tiredly, nodding at Sherlock. He opened the door and walked out, saying over his shoulder, "Good night."

Stranger: "Night," Sherlock said after him before closing the door. He turned to Molly. "I'm going to get ready for sleep. You need me to do anything before I do so?" he asked, moving towards the basement door.

You: "No. I've just about finished compiling all I could with Moran's medical history," Molly replied picking up the tea things. "It's taken a lot longer than I expected but it should be done in a few days."

Stranger: "Well, that's good news. Thank you," Sherlock said. "I'm turning in then. Night."

You: "Good night, Sherlock," Molly said, putting the dishes in the sink and heading to her own room. She had a lot of work to catch up on in the morning.

Stranger: Mycroft got into his car and started it up. He had given his driver the week off as soon as Greg had gone to the hospital and he had rushed out after him. Pulling out of the lot, he started to make his way back home, making sure to look both ways before crossing intersections, fear of what happened to Greg happening to him too poking at the back of his mind.

You: John was just finishing up a light meal when he heard Mycroft walking in. He looked up and called out, "Mycroft? I've got some food left over if you want something to eat. Everything all right?"

Stranger: Mycroft set his keys and wallet down by the front door on the table, in the bowl that sat on top of it, and made his way to the kitchen. "Everything's fine," Mycroft smiled, forcing it only a little. "What's leftover?"

You: "Rice and chicken," John said, brandishing his bowl at Mycroft. "Greg had gone shopping a few days ago and I decided to make a light meal out of it."

Stranger: Mycroft nodded and reached for the bowl, swallowing the ping of pain from Greg's name from the memories it brought up. "I might have some," he said, finding a fork and sitting.

You: "Feel free to finish it, Mycroft," John said, yawning. He stood and stretched, sending a smile Mycroft's way. "I'm going to head to bed. I want to work on my novel a bit more in the morning."

Stranger: "Alright, thanks John," Mycroft said, trying to return the smile. "Have a good sleep."

You: "You too, Mycroft," John said, leaving the room. He headed up to the guest room and changed quickly, yawning all the while. He tumbled into the bed and fell asleep quickly, the lack of sleep over the last few days overcoming him.

Stranger: Mycroft sat at the table and pulled the dish closer to him. He took a small bite and frowned, noting it was slightly cold. He stood to stick it in the microwave for a few seconds when a picture caught his eye.

You: Mycroft walked over to the counter where it sat, staring at the smiling faces in the photo. It was one that had been taken by a stranger when Mycroft and Greg were spending the day in the park for a case. Greg had joked that since Mycroft was there and he had a camera for gathering evidence, they should have a picture taken of themselves.

Stranger: He picked up the frame and abandoned his bowl, setting it in front of the microwave. Sitting back down at the table, it seemed all he could do was stare down at it. It felt like a whole different time from where they were now.

You: One thumb caressed the face of Greg in the photo. They were actually the same height in it since they were sitting on a bench. Mycroft had his arm slung over Greg's shoulders and was leaning in towards him as they smiled at the camera. It wasn't all that long ago and yet felt an eternity ago, with everything that had happened.

Stranger: Just staring at the moment captured on film made his mind race with questions and "what if's" he didn't really want to think about. He looked down at the ring that sat tightly on his finger on the hand holding the frame. What if he could never again hold Greg like he used to? What if he could never see the love of his life standing across from him at their wedding?

You: A grumble in his stomach reminded Mycroft it had been a long time since lunch. He put the picture down carefully, brushing his fingers over the glass as he turned away. Picking up the bowl, he sat down at the table and ate quickly.

Stranger: He ignored the bite of cold that tinted the food as he ate, unable to take his eyes off Greg's smiling face. Finishing, he stood and placed his plates in the sink to be done later on. He turned to face the picture with a small sigh.

You: "You better come back," he said softly to the picture before turning and clicking off the light. He walked upstairs slowly and got ready for bed, though he knew he probably wasn't going to be sleeping tonight.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: It had been a week since John ran into Moran in the bathroom at the hospital. He woke up with a single text message on his phone. Meet me at the bar. -SM. John moved down to the living room, phone held tightly in his hand, moving over to Mycroft, shakily.

You: "You all right, John?" Mycroft asked, noting the tremble. He hadn't seen that since Sherlock's funeral and now he was worried.

Stranger: John handed him the phone with the message still on it's screen. "Please, tell me you have that plan..?" John said, sitting heavily next to Mycroft.

You: Mycroft shook his head sadly, staring at the message. "Not yet," he admitted. "Anthea is having a few problems putting some of the data together. But it will be done, I promise you that. Just... not in time for this meeting, apparently."

Stranger: "What am I going to do?" John asked, dropping his head to his hands. "He can kill me, Mycroft."

You: Mycroft tapped his chin with his fingers, his mind working through several possible scenarios. Finally, one with just enough truth to be believable came to him. "You tell him that they were government agents," Mycroft told John, handing his phone back. "You talked with a contact in the government and Moran is being followed because he is being observed for possible recruitment."

Stranger: "Would he believe that?" John asked, raising his head enough to turn to look at Mycroft, resting the side of his head on his fists. "I mean, would agents follow him like that?"

You: "It's been done before," Mycroft admitted delicately. He didn't want to tell John everything because it was still classified. "People with certain... desirable skills are followed to make sure that they would be an asset if hired."

Stranger: John nodded slowly, only a little of the fear leaving at the thought of the plan. "And if he doesn't take it?" John asked. "If he wants names?"

You: "I have a couple identities I keep in case I need to sacrifice names," Mycroft told him. "They've come in handy in the past and it's easy to create new ones. The names are Thomas O'Malley and Adrian Johnson if he asks for names."

Stranger: "Alright," John nodded. "But still, what if I panic and forget the names or something? There has to be something more I can do..."

You: "John, you were a soldier," Mycroft snapped suddenly, hoping to force John to assume a military mindset. "You know how to keep your cool in situations like this. Draw on that training."

Stranger: John sighed. "I know, Mycroft, okay? I know. I'm sorry."

You: "Don't be sorry, John," Mycroft told him, his voice a little softer. "You can deal with this. You've dealt with situations far more dangerous than Moran."

Stranger: "You're right..." John stood and started pacing. "You're right. I can handle Moran. He trained me to shoot, I know his tricks."

You: Mycroft nodded as a small smile crossed his face. "Just keep those names in mind. If he asks, it doesn't really matter which one you say was shot."

Stranger: "Yeah, I can remember. I was in the bloody military, this is nothing..."

You: Mycroft stopped talking then, letting John boost his confidence by reminding himself of his time spent in the military. He knew they didn't have much more time; Moran didn't come off as a patient man.

Stranger: John paused as his phone beeped next to Mycroft. He turned to face it, the fear hitting him again in the gut. "Who is it?"

You: Mycroft looked at the display and saw Moran's name. "It's Moran," he told John. "Probably wanting to know when you are going to the bar."

Stranger: "Toss it here," John said as Mycroft picked up the device. He caught it and looked at the screen. 2:30. Don't be late. -SM

You: "You should reply," Mycroft said, staring at the display. "We don't want him getting suspicious."

Stranger: John typed out a quick message back after a small nod to Mycroft. I'll be there. -JW

You: "All right, that gives us a few hours to set all this up," Mycroft said, looking at the clock that read 11 am. "You'll be meeting him by yourself but I'll have a few agents on site."

Stranger: "Alright, and what about you? What are you going to be doing?" John asked, finally calming down enough to sit.

You: "I'm going to be watching the CCTV cameras away from the bar," Mycroft replied. "Moran can't see me because he'll recognize me. That's why I'm going to put a couple agents in there to watch your back."

Stranger: "Are you going to be able to hear us?" John asked, wondering what good the CCTV cameras would do without sound.

You: Mycroft nodded. He'd be able to hear though not necessarily the way John might think. "I'm going to give you an earpiece and mic so I can hear what's going on and you can hear me. Just in case something unforeseen comes up."

Stranger: "That would be perfect," John said, a smile crossing his face easier than it really should have. "But we have to make sure Moran can't see the wires."

You: "John, John," Mycroft chuckled. "You really think technology is still stuck at the wire stage? I have access to things Moran has never even imagined. He won't find anything on you."

Stranger: John shrugged. "Well, if I don't know about it, hopefully Moran won't either."

You: "Never assume anything about your enemy," Mycroft admonished him. "Just act as you normally would. We need to head into my office to get the listening equipment."

Stranger: "Right, sorry. Lead the way," John said, standing as Mycroft stood.

You: Mycroft decided to drive to his office and waited while John got in the car. The drive was very quiet, John appearing deep in thought. Mycroft parked in his spot in the parking garage and looked at John. "We can find another way if you're not up for this, John," he offered.

Stranger: John sighed and looked at Mycroft, bothering his lip. "No..." He said at length. "I have to do this. Who knows what will happen if I don't?"

You: "Good. Just remember that and don't lose hope or confidence, John," Mycroft told him. He led the way up to his office, pulling out a form to acquire the bug he needed. He gave it to one of his aides, who returned quickly with the devices.

Stranger: John waited as Mycroft hooked him up and stepped back to test it.

You: Mycroft nodded as he heard John speaking in his own earpiece. Looking at the clock, he realized they still had about 2 and a half hours. "Is there anything else you wanted to do before meeting Moran?" Mycroft asked.

Stranger: "I don't know..." John said, thinking. "I guess, maybe, if you can show me the CCTV cameras you'll be watching?"

You: "Of course," Mycroft said, gesturing to the computer sitting on his desk. He was able to log into the system from any computer connected to the internet. Which had come in handy several times in the past. He pulled up the cameras that were around and inside the pub to show John.

Stranger: "Is there anyplace I should know about? Any blind spots, I mean?" John asked, clicking through the cameras and watching the people.

You: "There is a blind spot near the bathroom and another at the farthest corner from the door," Mycroft told him. A sudden thought of Greg intruded and Mycroft realized he'd left the man alone all day. Pulling out his phone, he sent a quick text to Molly asking her to stay with Greg today if she could.

Stranger: John sighed loudly, running a hand through his hair as he sat up from looking at the screens. "And if we sit in a blind spot when we talk?"

You: "I'll listen to the conversation. We can make a codeword that if you say this word, something is wrong," Mycroft replied. "And the agents can deal with Moran while you get out of there."

Stranger: "Did you have one in mind?" John asked, sitting back in his chair and watching the cameras.

You: "I thought I'd let you pick it. That way, you should be able to remember it better," Mycroft replied. He pulled out his phone again when it beeped, reading the confirmation text from Molly. One worry dropped from his shoulders.

Stranger: "Cinnamon," John said shortly "It's easy enough to remember."

You: "Fine as long as you can remember it," Mycroft said. "Is there anything else you want to discuss?"

Stranger: "Is there anything else I should know?" John asked slowly, shrugging. "You know more than I do, what should I watch for?"

You: "I don't know, John," Mycroft admitted. "You'd know best what signals to look for. You were trained by Moran so you know him best out of all of us."

Stranger: John sighed again, bothering his lower lip. "Alright then..." he said at length.

You: Mycroft looked at the clock and saw that their conversation and testing the listening devices had taken about an hour. They still had an hour before John needed to meet Moran. "How about some lunch?" Mycroft suggested. "Unless you don't feel up to eating?"

Stranger: "No, I can go for some lunch," John said, standing and reminding himself of his training. He squared his shoulders and straightened his spine a little more.

You: "There's a small cafeteria downstairs that serves decent food. We have time for a quick bite," Mycroft said, shutting down his computer again. He sent another text to Anthea to have a laptop computer and a car with tinted windows ready for him to take at 2pm.

Stranger: "That sounds nice. Will you be joining me?" John asked, smiling a little. He stood and moved to get his coat, which hung by the office door.

You: "I have one or two things to finish here to set this all up and then I will be," Mycroft said, fully intending to text Sherlock once John was out of the room. "You go ahead."

Stranger: "Alright, shall I save you a seat?" John asked, opening the door and standing in it's frame.

You: "Yes, thank you John," Mycroft said, sitting back down at his desk. He waited until John closed the door and pulled out his phone to text Sherlock.  
John is going to meet Moran today at 2:30. Will be in black car parked near the pub. Want to join me? - MH

Stranger: Please. Maybe I can finally reveal myself to him if we can kill Moran... I had just bought that pen for him too. Got it this morning. -SH

You: Good. Meet me at 427 Jackson Street at 2:15. I want to make sure John doesn't see you. - MH

Stranger: Alright I'll stay somewhere out of sight until you text me to come to your car. -SH

You: Sounds good. Bring the pen as well. I'm curious what you got for him. - MH

Stranger: I will. I think he'll really like it. Plus the ring. -SH

You: Good. Now, don't forget to not let John see you. I'm still hesitant about you meeting him for coffee later this week. - MH

Stranger: I know Mycroft. See you later. -SH

You: Mycroft deleted all the messages, realizing he'd collected quite a few with Sherlock's name in them. He then pocketed the phone and headed down to eat lunch.

Stranger: John, seeing Mycroft, waved him over to the table where an empty seat sat. "Hey, Mycroft. Get everything worked out?" he asked as Mycroft sat down.

You: "Yes I did, thank you," Mycroft replied, drizzling dressing over the salad he'd gotten today. He was still dieting, all of Greg's arguments about not needing to not making him stop. And the cafeteria here had excellent salads. No simple iceberg lettuce and carrot shavings here.

Stranger: They made small talk while eating their meals until it was time to get up and start getting ready to face Moran. John double checked all the earpieces and microphones before following Mycroft out to the parking lot where two black cars were parked, waiting.

You: Mycroft led John to one of the cars and waited while he got in. "I'll follow behind you in the other car," Mycroft explained. "I don't want Moran to see me at all. This way, he shouldn't suspect you of working against him."

Stranger: John nodded. "Good idea," he said, before shutting the door. He rolled down the window. "I'll meet you after, I guess."

You: "The driver will take you back here," Mycroft told him. "I don't want you to be seen meeting me anywhere near the pub in case Moran has people watching. Stay calm for this, John. You'll be fine."

Stranger: "Thanks, Mycroft. For everything," John smiled up at him before the car started forward. He rolled the window back up and relaxed back into the seat, watching the pub's street come into view.

You: Mycroft got into his own car as John's left and waited a few minutes before directing the driver to follow. He was quiet for the ride, tapping his fingers on the handle of the umbrella he had in the car. When the pub came into view, Mycroft saw John standing next to the car, checking his watch.

Stranger: John checked his watch and watched out of the corner of his eye as another black car, no doubt Mycroft's, pass by and continue down the street a little ways. John waited for a little bit, watching as 2:30 neared, before heading inside.

You: Mycroft watched as John walked inside then turned when his door opened. Seeing Sherlock standing there, Mycroft slid over to give his brother room to get in the car. "How are you?" he asked once the door closed.

Stranger: "Fine," Sherlock said, moving closer to get a better look at the screen Mycroft had opened on his lap. "What do you have there?"

You: "CCTV of the pub," Mycroft replied. He angled his laptop so that Sherlock could see it as well and smiled when he saw Moran sitting in the middle of the shot at a booth against the wall. "We'll be able to see everything and I can hear everything. I've also got two agents inside in case John needs help."

Stranger: "It seems you have everything figured out," Sherlock said, nodding. "Do you think we can end it today?"

You: "I don't know. Maybe but that pub is filled with people who aren't in on this," Mycroft said quietly, studying the monitor. John had just sat down and was looking at Moran. He didn't sound at all shaky in Mycroft's earpiece. "I think it's more than a little risky to do it now."

Stranger: "Alright," Sherlock said, unable to keep the slight disappointment out of his tone. "Do you have an extra ear piece by chance? I'd love to hear what's going on."

You: Mycroft had indeed brought along another earpiece in case his first one malfunctioned. He handed it to Sherlock and turned back to study the screen. Moran appeared to be at ease but was probably good at appearing calm even under duress.

Stranger: Sherlock placed the earpiece in his ear and listened, hearing John's voice, calm and steady. He trained his eyes on John, watching his form. Sherlock could tell he was nervous, just by the way he played with his thumb, plus his shoulders were squared. "Tell John to relax," Sherlock muttered to Mycroft, watching Moran carefully to make sure he didn't catch the small signs.

You: Mycroft did so, muttering quietly into the mic he wore on his lapel so as to not startle John. When John's shoulders eased from their tense straightness, Mycroft shot a thankful look at Sherlock. "You can read him very well, can't you?" he asked.

Stranger: "Yes," Sherlock said simply. "I've watched him from the corner of my eye whenever he thought I was paying attention. I learned the way he treated situations, I studied him... I love him."

You: Mycroft nodded and focused on the conversation between John and Moran. Moran had dropped the same almost-threats as before when John didn't immediately give him names. "I gave John the name of two of the identities I keep in case I need them," Mycroft told Sherlock. "To placate Moran if he asks for specific names."

Stranger: "Good idea," Sherlock nodded, only half listening to Mycroft. He focused on John and Moran, being able to hear John's voice perfectly. "I only had a week," he was saying. "It was hard to find out much, but I think I found some things."

You: "Go on," Moran said, taking a sip of the beer he'd ordered. "I want to hear everything you've found."

Stranger: "I found out the people following you worked for the government," John began, forcing himself to remember what Mycroft had told him. "They seem to be following you for observation, possible recruitment. They may want you back in the war."

You: "And they couldn't just tell me?" Moran asked incredulously. "I was discharged, just this short of dishonorably. I doubt they'd want me back. And if not the war, recruitment for what?"

Stranger: John shrugged, sipping his beer. "Training? Maybe they want you to train newcomers?"

You: Moran pondered that for several moments, staring over John's shoulder. This made a bit of sense to him but seemed extremely strange all the same. "And they were from the British government?" Moran asked suddenly. "Why would they follow me from Dublin all the way to Dubai?"

Stranger: "Who knows," John said, shrugging a single shoulder, trying his best to act relaxed. "The British government is crazy. It's run by strange people."

You: "I have to agree with you there," Moran laughed. He looked around the pub casually, his natural cautiousness not allowing him to relax. "What were their names? Maybe I should send them a condolences card for shooting the one or something."

Stranger: John swallowed, picking up his drink and sipping from it. He had heard Mycroft's, "I heard that," growled into the mic softly. "Their names are Thomas O'Malley and Adrian Johnson."

You: "Interesting. Those aren't names I recognize and I thought I knew all the recruiters from the government," Moran mused. He pushed his drink away, done with the alcohol for now. "Speaking of recruiting John, have you thought at all about joining my organization?"

Stranger: "The IOU? Yeah, I've thought about it," John said, avoiding the government talk. "I'm not so sure... Maybe if you tell me more about it?"

You: "There's only so much I can say, John," Moran hedged, tapping a finger on the table. "We're kind of secretive. But I can tell you that we get paid very well for simple work. Well, simple for our training."

Stranger: Sherlock turned to Mycroft, listening into the conversation. "Maybe he should... do it..?" Sherlock whispered. "He could figure out some information for us... do you think it would be a safe enough risk?"

You: "It might be but what happens if John is ordered to do something that goes against his principles?" Mycroft asked, slanting a glance at Sherlock. "You and I both know he is a good man and Moran... isn't."

Stranger: "I know... but he would do it..." Sherlock said at length, staring hard at John's form on the screen. "He would do it for the ones he cares about, if it meant saving them."

You: "Do you really want him to make that choice?" Mycroft argued, double-checking to make sure his mic was off. John really didn't need to hear this. "Especially if it means killing an innocent or even someone we're already trying to save?"

Stranger: Sherlock sighed, watching John as he drank his beer. "No," he said, finally. "I don't want to force him to do that... He shouldn't have to live with that always bugging him in the back of his mind."

You: "He carries enough burdens," Mycroft murmured before turning back to the screen. They hadn't missed any conversation while they were talking, John apparently thinking very hard about Moran's proposal.

Stranger: "Tell him not to do it," Sherlock said, nudging Mycroft. "He's obviously waiting to see what you have to say."

You: Mycroft turned his mic on after a warning glance at Sherlock and said, "I'd recommend not joining just yet, John. There's no telling what you would have to do."

Stranger: John heard the message and continued thinking for a moment. "I think," he said, looking back up at Moran. "I have to decline the offer for now. Sorry."

You: Anger flashed in Moran's eyes, so quickly that it could almost be said not to have been there. He covered it by smiling widely and saying, "That's all right. Keep it in mind though, in case you need some cash. We've always got a place for ex-military men."

Stranger: "Thanks," John nodded, returning the smile. "I just don't want to join something I don't even know much about. Sorry, again."

You: "Think nothing of it, John," Moran told him, though he gritted his teeth. He had really wanted to get John into IOU so he wouldn't have to worry about stalking the man anymore. Though, by all reports, Sherlock was as dead as Moriarty. "And thank you for the information about the government agents."

Stranger: "Welcome," John said, taking a handful of nuts from the table and munching on them. "Anything else you need?"

You: "No I think I've gotten all the information I need, thank you," Moran said, moving to stand. "It was nice to see you again, John."

Stranger: "Nice to see you again too," John said, waving. He watched Moran retreat, the door closing behind him, and then whispered into the mic, "He's gone."

You: "Good job, John, very good job," Mycroft said approvingly. "Just walk out of the pub now and get back in the car. The driver has his instructions." He waited to close his laptop until he was sure John was safe then turned to Sherlock. "That went well," he remarked.

Stranger: "Yes, it did, luckily," Sherlock said, leaning back in his seat and sighing deeply. "One problem out of the way for now, at least."

You: "You should probably head back to Molly's," Mycroft suggested. "I need to meet John back at my office to get the listening device and mic back from him." Mycroft turned his head slightly as John's car edged out into traffic and once again was happy he had tinted windows. He didn't want to explain why Sherlock was in the car with him to John.

Stranger: Sherlock watched as John's car drove away, just being able to make out John's form. He could tell the windows in John's car weren't tinted and was glad he could catch the sight of John. He watched John's form until he couldn't make it out any longer and turned back to Mycroft. "I guess I should," he said slowly.

You: "When do you meet him for your coffee date?" Mycroft asked, trying to keep the sarcasm out of his voice. He was really worried about this. It was far too easy for Sherlock to slip and for John to figure everything out.

Stranger: "In about three days," Sherlock said, looking at his watch. "I know you're worried, Mycroft. I'll be careful."

You: "I can't say this enough, Sherlock," Mycroft said, turning to look at his brother earnestly. "John could very easily figure this out. He knows you, he'd lived with you for almost two years. I'm amazed he hasn't figured it out before now, with how many times he's run into you."

Stranger: "I know, it's a risk. I know John's not stupid and I know it's very lucky he hasn't figured out who I am yet, but I need this," Sherlock said, sighing loudly. "I need to talk to him. I'm going crazy here without him. You know that."

You: "I do. And I know he's going just as crazy without you," Mycroft sighed. He ran a hand through his hair and removed the earpiece. "Just... be careful, please. I don't want to lose either of you and have all our hard work go to waste."

Stranger: "And it won't," Sherlock assured him. "Remember, the best disguise is the one in plain sight. Let me do this."

You: "Is there any way I can stop you?" Mycroft asked rhetorically. "Besides, maybe talking to someone other than Molly, Greg, or me will be good for John. There's only so many times we can tell the same stories."

Stranger: "I'll be careful, alright? You can even do the headphone and mic thing to me if you want to monitor it like you did John and Moran. I just need to talk to him," Sherlock said, bothering his bottom lip.

You: "No, I don't think I need to go quite that far. Just... don't let anything slip," Mycroft warned.

Stranger: "I won't," Sherlock promised, letting a small smile cross his face.

You: "Text me after you meet him," Mycroft said. "I want to know if there's any damage control I need to do. See you later, Sherlock."

Stranger: "Bye, Mycroft," Sherlock said, opening the door and getting out of the car. He watched as Mycroft drove away, and turned to go back to Molly's flat.

You: The drive back to Mycroft's office was short and he went in to see John waiting patiently for him. "I'm glad that went so well," Mycroft told John as he held out a hand for the devices.

Stranger: John unhooked the mic and started working on the earpiece that was slightly tangled in his hair. "Me too, I was a little nervous sitting down, thanks for telling me that."

You: "Of course," Mycroft replied. Once John handed over the mic and the earpiece, he placed them and his own back in the case they had come in. He put them in a desk drawer and made a mental note to give them back to Anthea. "What is your plan now?" he asked curiously.

Stranger: "Do you think it would be safe to head back to 221B?" John asked, sitting across from Mycroft as he sat behind his desk. "I'd love to head back. I feel a little homesick..."

You: "By now I would say yes," Mycroft nodded after a few moments' thought. "Moran has no reason to go after you anymore; he got what he was looking for. Though if he contacts you again, please let me know."

Stranger: "Of course," John said, a smile creeping across his face as he thought about going back to Baker Street. It was all he had left of Sherlock, and he missed sitting in his own chair, sleeping in his own bed.

You: "By the way, John, how is your book coming?" Mycroft asked before John could leave. "Had you gotten a chance to edit it before all this happened?"

Stranger: "Not at all," John shook his head sadly. "But I plan to finish it this week. Then, hopefully, next week, I plan to start searching for a publisher."

You: "Sounds excellent," Mycroft said, smiling. "If you have problems, feel free to call me. I'm sure I can help you find a publisher if you need it."

Stranger: "Thanks, Mycroft," John smiled. "But I want to see if I can do it by myself, first. I'll keep the offer in mind, though."

You: "You're welcome," Mycroft said, a small smile crossing his lips. He had a few hours before visiting hours at the hospital were over and he wanted to see Greg. "I'll see you later, then. I'm going to spend some time with Greg and hopefully he wakes up."

Stranger: "I hope so too," John said, standing and moving over to take his coat. "I'm sure he will soon, if not tonight."

You: "Is that you speaking as a friend or as a doctor?" Mycroft asked sadly, moving to put his coat on as well. "I appreciate either but I want to know what your honest opinion is."

Stranger: "As a friend, I say I'm sure he'll wake soon. As a doctor," John paused, thinking for a moment. "I can honestly say he's showing positive signs and could very well wake up within the next week. But, sadly, it could still take a couple months, we just don't know. Greg's body needs to heal, but, as a doctor, I can say he will wake up. It just depends on the time."

You: Mycroft nodded and sighed. He'd hoped John would be able to give him something more definitive, but he had hope now. Something he was lacking in before. "Thank you," he murmured, sending John another smile. "I'll call you if he wakes up tonight. I'm sure you would like to know."

Stranger: "I would, yes," John nodded as they made their way down to their cars. "I'd love to see him awake. But I'll only come when you had time to catch up and all."

You: Mycroft nodded again and got into his car. He waved at John as he pulled away, wanting to get to the hospital quickly. He drove through the traffic, annoyed as he realized that most people were getting off of work now. Parking in the visitor's lot again, Mycroft made his way up to Greg's room.

Stranger: Molly sat in Greg's room, watching his eyes flutter. She heard footsteps enter the room and jumped up when she saw Mycroft walk in. "Evening, Mycroft," she said, pulling him into a hug.

You: Mycroft returned the hug, his eyes never leaving Greg's face. "Good evening, Molly," he replied softly. "Thank you for staying with him today. How has he been?"

Stranger: "He said your name," Molly said happily, letting Mycroft go and smiling up at him. "Well, breathed it really. But he said it none-the-less. The doctors say he should wake up within the next five to six weeks, at the latest."

You: Mycroft felt tears gathering in his eyes at the news. Greg was slowly coming back to him and this just proved it. "That sounds wonderful, Molly," Mycroft breathed, moving out of the hug and sitting in the chair Molly had vacated. Taking Greg's hand, he ran a thumb over the back of his knuckles.

Stranger: "He'll be back soon," Molly said, placing a hand on Mycroft's shoulder as she saw the tears starting to form. "Maybe if you talk to him a little?"

You: "Is it true that coma patients can hear their loved ones talking to them?" Mycroft asked hopefully. "I've heard that from other people but I've never had the chance to test it."

Stranger: "They're supposed to," Molly smiled. "I'm sure Greg would love to hear your voice right now."

You: Mycroft took a deep breath and began to talk softly, explaining to Greg everything he and John had done today. He took extra care to explain the precautions for John's safety, knowing that his fiance would want to know that his friend was safe.

Stranger: Molly smiled and squeezed Mycroft's shoulder. She whispered her goodbye and quietly left the room, looking over her shoulder at Mycroft and Lestrade and smiling. Those two really loved each other.

You: Mycroft barely noticed Molly leaving. After he had told the story of his adventures today, he went on to tell Greg about John's upcoming date with Sherlock. Not that John probably thought of it that way. Mycroft told him all his concerns, worrying that John was going to find out and then be killed. The sun set, bars of light drifting across the floor as he spoke.

Stranger: John sat down after pulling up to his flat. He was planning on getting his stuff from Mycroft's flat when he was home, but had grabbed his laptop from the flat before he left for the bar. He took it upstairs, sitting down in his chair and breathing in the smell of 221B. He opened the document and started editing the last few chapters of his story, just glad to be home again. Glad to be where Sherlock would have wanted him.

You: As the last of the sunlight fell across Greg's face, he shifted and murmured, "Mycroft... where...." Mycroft jerked his head up, having fallen into an almost-trance talking. Scanning Greg's face, he could see his eyelids fluttering as if he was trying to wake up. "Come on, Greg," Mycroft pleaded. "Wake up for me. Please. Just come back to me."

Stranger: John continued to make edits to his novel, adding short paragraphs and a changing a few words to better fit the mood. He smiled as he came to the last couple sentences, leaning back and sighing.

You: Mycroft kept pleading softly, using Greg's name as often as he could. He ignored the nurse who came in to tell him visiting hours were over. She left in a huff and Mycroft made a mental note to donate something to the hospital to ease his way if he had to be here again in the future. Finally, Greg's eyes opened and he looked around. "Greg?" Mycroft whispered, leaning forward. "Greg are you awake now?"

Stranger: "Who..?" Greg asked slowly, squinting up at the figure lingering over him. "Where's Mycroft?"

You: "Greg, I'm Mycroft," Mycroft said carefully, his heart sinking. Had his fiance forgotten everything? "Don't you recognize me?"

Stranger: "You-you're not Mycroft... I want Mycroft," Greg said, pulling his hand away and crossing it over his stomach, away from this man.

You: "What...?" Mycroft asked slowly, his mouth dropping open. "I am Mycroft. See? Here's the ring you gave me when you proposed." He held out his hand, the ring glittering on his finger.

Stranger: "Why... Why do you have his ring? What have you done to him?" Greg asked slowly, his eyes watering. "Where's Mycroft?"

You: "Greg, I don't understand," Mycroft replied. "Why don't you recognize me? You obviously remember me." He pressed the nurse's call button, hoping someone else could help him figure out what was going on.

Stranger: "I just want Mycroft..." Greg said slowly, tears starting to roll down his face. "Where is he?"

You: Before Mycroft could reply, the nurse walked in and widened her eyes at the sight. "When did he wake?" she asked, moving forward to pick up Greg's chart. "About 5 minutes ago," Mycroft told her. "He doesn't recognize me. Something's wrong."

Stranger: The nurse scanned over all the machines. "What do you remember, sir?" she asked, looking down at Lestrade and checking over his IV.

You: "I remember driving in to work and then a huge crunching sound. Then everything goes blank," Lestrade replied, looking down at himself. "What happened to me?"

Stranger: "You were in a car crash," the nurse said, adjusting the drip of the IV. Greg looked at her in confusion, trying to remember.

You: "It was a truck," Mycroft murmured, still staring at Greg with a slightly horrified look on his face. "It ran through the red light and slammed into your car." His voice broke on the last few words, tears sparkling in his eyes.

Stranger: "Really?" Lestrade asked, looking at Mycroft. "Who are you?" He asked, squinting at Mycroft's face. "Were you the one driving the truck or something?"

You: "No, I wasn't," Mycroft told him, meeting Greg's eyes. "My name is Mycroft Holmes. You're my fiance. You proposed to me first by using a picture message and then again when I got back from my trip. We've been together for a little over a year now. And you don't recognize me."

Stranger: "You're not Mycroft," Lestrade repeated, shaking his head. "I would know the love of my life if I saw him. You're not him."

You: "I can prove it to you," Mycroft said, a hint of desperation in his voice. He sat back in the chair and said, "Ask me anything that Mycroft would know. And only him."

Stranger: "I'm sorry, sir," the nurse cut in, looking at Mycroft in confusion. "Did you say your name was Mycroft Holmes?"

You: Mycroft nodded at the nurse, his head tilted to the side. "Why? Is there something wrong?" he asked.

Stranger: "The past week and a half you've been here, you have said your name was Joshua Wright," the nurse said, putting her hands on her hips. "You are aware that giving a false name to a hospital is illegal, right sir?"

You: "I understand that but I was working undercover at the time," Mycroft explained. "I work for the government. If you feel the need to file a complaint, I will give you my superior's card and you can call him to verify."

Stranger: "By law, I have to, sir," the nurse said, holding out her hand for the card. Mycroft handed it to her and she went off to the nurses station.

You: Mycroft looked back at Greg, hope and sorrow mingling in his eyes. "So?" he asked. "Are you going to ask me anything?"

Stranger: Lestrade sighed, thinking. "What about... How did you ask me out the first time?" Lestrade asked, narrowing his eyes at Mycroft.

You: "We were in this same hospital and you were sitting at John's bedside because he had accidentally overdosed," Mycroft replied, a smile crossing his face at the memory of what followed. "I convinced you to go to lunch and we kissed in my car on the way there."

Stranger: "And the second time?" Lestrade asked, knowing he needed more proof then just one correct answer. It was going to take a lot to convince him.

You: "The second time?" Mycroft asked, his eyebrows drawing together as he thought. "You mean after we broke up? John was here again, recovering from trying to commit suicide. We were in the hospital parking lot and Sherlock had explained everything about my ex. Then we kissed again."

Stranger: "What did we talk over when we got back to Mycroft's?" Lestrade asked, his eyebrows raising.

You: "We talked about our past relationships and learning to trust each other again," Mycroft replied. "And it was actually at your flat before you moved in with me. Sherlock sent us pizza."

Stranger: "What kind of pizza?"

You: "He had garbage pizza sent to us," Mycroft smiled. "Because we both liked it."

Stranger: "One more question," Lestrade said, his gaze softening.

You: "Go ahead, love," Mycroft said, the endearment leaving his lips automatically.

Stranger: "Why... don't I recognize you?" Lestrade asked slowly, frowning.

You: "I don't know, Greg, I really don't. John might know since he's a doctor," Mycroft replied sadly, his hand reaching out for Greg's but stopping before actually touching. "I can only guess that the accident affected your visual memory since you remember everything about me but can't recognize me. Can you tell me what you remember of what Mycroft looks like?"

Stranger: Lestrade shook his head. "I can picture him... but it's blurry," he said slowly. "Like... I can see everything, his smile and eyes and all, but details... aren't there."

You: "It may just be a side effect of the accident. The doctor should be able to tell us more when he sees you," Mycroft said, leaving his hand where it was when Greg made no move to take it. He tried to keep the hurt off his face and out of his voice but it was difficult.

Stranger: "You're upset," Greg said slowly, frowning. "I'm sorry, if you are who you say you are, I want to remember you... I love you."

You: "I know and I don't want you to worry about me," Mycroft said, pulling his hand away. He couldn't be that close and not touch. "We'll figure out what's going on." He looked to the doorway as confident steps walked in. "I believe that's what I'm here for," the doctor said, smiling at Mycroft and Greg.

Stranger: "What's going on?" Lestrade asked slowly, looking up at the doctor. "Why can't I remember him?"

You: "I'm not sure just yet," the doctor admitted. Mycroft saw that his nametag read Dr. M. Jericho. "There are a couple things that could cause this kind of amnesia. I want to get you an MRI before I speculate."

Stranger: "Alright," Lestrade nodded. He looked at Mycroft and smiled a little. "I'm sure everything will be fine, alright?"

You: "Yes, we just have to stay optimistic, love," Mycroft replied, his voice breaking slightly. He tried to smile back but was only able to manage a pained stretch of his lips. "How long until he can go for the MRI?" he asked, turning to the doctor.

Stranger: "Half an hour?" The doctor said, reading over a clipboard he carried. "That's the soonest we can get him in. Does that work for the two of you?"

You: "It does," Lestrade answered as Mycroft nodded. "I want to figure out what's going on as soon as possible. I don't like not recognizing the people I love."

Stranger: Mycroft, staring up at the doctor as he talked more about what was going to happen and how they were going to do the MRI, felt a soft hand on his knee. He looked down to see Greg's hand, resting gently on his knee and smiled. He took it gently, giving it a loving squeeze, looking at Greg's face to see a small smile cross it, then back up at the doctor.

You: "I'll have a tech take him in about 20 minutes," the doctor said, noting the chart and hanging it on the end of the bed. He walked out and closed the door behind him. Mycroft turned back to Greg and twined his fingers with the other man's. "I hope this is something that can be cured," Mycroft murmured.

Stranger: "I hope so too," Lestrade said slowly. "But what if it isn't?"

You: "Then we'll work around it," Mycroft said confidently. "You believe I'm who I say now, right? You'll just have to relearn my features."

Stranger: "I believe you enough," Lestrade said slowly. "Of course, I'd love proof, like an ID or something, but for now, I believe you."

You: "You just had to ask, love," Mycroft smiled. He let go of Greg's hand to pull out his wallet and slide out his driver's license. He handed it to Greg and waited while the DI inspected it.

Stranger: "It all looks right," Lestrade said, handing the license back to Mycroft. "So I guess I have to believe you... but I still wish I remembered."

You: Mycroft put the ID away and took Greg's hand again. "I'm sure you will in time. You just woke up," he said, smiling at him. It was a far more genuine smile than before, some of the pain fading now that Greg believed he was indeed Mycroft.

Stranger: Lestrade sighed and pulled on Mycroft's hand a little. "Can you come here?" he asked, not meeting Mycroft's eyes.

You: "Of course," Mycroft replied, moving to sit on the edge of the bed. He stared curiously at Greg, wondering why he wouldn't look at him. "What did you want, love?"

Stranger: Lestrade looked up at Mycroft and pulled him down gently, locking lips with him. He pulled back after a few seconds and let Mycroft sit up. "That," he said with a small, sad smile.

You: Mycroft was silent for a few moments, fingers lifting to touch his lips. "And was it like you remembered?" he finally asked, clearing his throat a few times. How he'd missed that and feared he'd never kiss Greg again.

Stranger: Lestrade nodded shallowly. "Exactly," he said, tightening his grip on Mycroft's hand.

You: "Can I... can I kiss you again?" Mycroft asked, leaning forward slightly.

Stranger: Lestrade let his eyes meet with Mycroft's and stare deeply into them. "Please," he whispered, pulling on Mycroft's hand a little again.

You: Mycroft leaned forward the rest of the way, pressing his lips lightly to Greg's. He didn't push for more, just kept the kiss loving and chaste. He tightened his fingers around Greg's before pulling away to look into the other man's eyes.

Stranger: Lestrade had brought his other hand up to hold Mycroft's cheek softly. It lingered in the air as Mycroft as back up and Lestrade opened his eyes. He let it fall back to the bed and looked into Mycroft's deep eyes. "Is it how you remembered?" he asked slowly.

You: "Yes, it is," Mycroft said, pulling Greg into a hug. "You have no idea how much I missed you. I'm so happy you came back to me."

Stranger: "I'll always come back," Lestrade whispered, holding Mycroft tighter. "For you."

You: Mycroft couldn't hold back the tears this time, happiness overwhelming him. They could deal with everything else as long as Greg was awake and in his arms. He laid his head on the other man's shoulder and just held on until the MRI technician knocked on the door.

Stranger: Frowning at the loss of contact for a moment, Lestrade looked up to the tech. "Is it time?" he asked, squeezing Mycroft's hand.

You: "Yes, you're scheduled for the MRI machine in ten minutes," the tech said. "And I'm sorry, sir, but you're going to have to stay here." This was directed at Mycroft, who nodded and gave Greg one last hug before retaking a seat on the chair.

Stranger: "I love you," Lestrade smiled as Mycroft let go of him to take a seat. He looked at Mycroft as they helped him into a wheelchair and started him down the hallway.

You: "I love you, Greg," Mycroft called after him. He settled deeper into the chair and crossed his legs, trying to find some sort of patience until Greg came back. Then he remembered he promised to text John if Greg woke up and pulled his phone out to let John know.

Stranger: Hey, Mycroft, any good news? -JW

You: Yes but bad news to go along with it. Greg woke up and he remembers everything leading up to the accident. But he didn't recognize me when he saw me. - MH

Stranger: What? Sounds like Prosopamnesia. -JW

You: I've never heard of that before. What does that mean? - MH

Stranger: It's a version of amnesia that happens when you damage part of the brain. The person can't recognize facial features or details. It's... incurable. -JW

You: Incurable? You mean he may never see me and know me again? I barely convinced him I was who I was in the first place! - MH

Stranger: I'm sorry, Mycroft. I really am. We just have to hope it's not that serious... -JW

You: Is there... anything else it could be? Something that might heal over time? - MH

Stranger: It could be just swelling of the brain. If that's it, we just wait till the swelling goes down. -JW

You: Then that's what I'm going to hope it is. Thank you, John. - MH

Stranger: I hope so too. Let me know when you guys are either back home or settled at the hospital. If you don't mind, I'd love to come visit him. Night, Mycroft. -JW

You: I will, John. Good night. - MH

Stranger: Mycroft paced the room as half an hour slowly crept past. He had already texted Anthea, explaining to her that the mic and earpiece were in his desk in its case. He waiting impatiently for Greg's return.

You: The same tech wheeled Lestrade down the hallway after the MRI. He hated holding still but wanted to find out what was wrong with him as soon as possible. Moving into his room, Lestrade saw what his eyes told him was a stranger but his brain told him was actually Mycroft.

Stranger: Lestrade got back into bed with help from Mycroft and the tech. After he was settled, he felt Mycroft sit next to him, taking his hand. He turned and smiled at him as Mycroft turned to the tech.

You: "How long until we know the results?" Mycroft asked before the tech could walk out.

Stranger: "Around an hour or so, sir," the tech smiled gently, glancing at his clipboard as he said it.

You: "Thank you," Mycroft replied, turning back to Greg and giving him a smile. "John wants to see you when you feel up to it," he told Greg. "I texted him while you were having your test."

Stranger: "John..." Greg said, trying to place a face to the name. "I can't picture him either..."

You: "John's your friend. You and he were together for a short time," Mycroft explained. "He has sandy blond hair and dark blue eyes, stands about 5 foot 7?"

Stranger: "I remember who he is," Lestrade snapped, getting annoyed. "I just can't put a face to him."

You: Mycroft bowed his head a second, contrition crossing his face. "I know that, I'm sorry," he said, taking Greg's hand. "I'm not sure exactly what you remember of everyone."

Stranger: Lestrade sighed. "I know, hun. I'm sorry. This is hard for both of us, I shouldn't have snapped." Lestrade ran his thumb over the back of Mycroft's hand. "Can you lay down with me, hun?"

You: "Sure, I can do that," Mycroft said, taking Greg's hand and squeezing it. "Are you sure you want me to, though. I know you still don't recognize me."

Stranger: "I think I can trust you," Lestrade smiled slightly. "No one else could kiss me like you did."

You: Mycroft slid into the bed carefully, trying not to jostle Greg. He wrapped his arms around the other man, pulling him tight to his chest. "Is this what you had in mind?" Mycroft asked, pressing a kiss to the back of Greg's neck.

Stranger: Lestrade nodded, closing his eyes as the warmth surrounded him. "Perfect," he whispered, his lips curving into a smile. He cuddled back farther against Mycroft, pressing every inch of his body he could into Mycroft's.

You: Rubbing a hand soothingly down Greg's arm, Mycroft held his fiance and whispered assurances in his ear. He felt Greg slowly relax against him. "When you don't see me, do you know it's me?" he asked quietly.

Stranger: Lestrade thought for a long moment, bothering his bottom lip and closing his eyes. "No," he answered slowly. "I can only tell it's you when we kiss. No one else has ever made me feel that way when we kiss. But when you're just holding me... I can't tell it's really you at all."

You: "I'm sorry, Greg," Mycroft said sadly, his breath ghosting over Greg's skin. "If I hadn't asked you to look for Moran, you wouldn't have been in that accident. I'm so sorry."

Stranger: "Mycroft," Lestrade whispered, turning over to face him. "It's not your fault. You didn't know that any of this was going to happen, you didn't know I'd end up here. It could have happened to me just driving to work one day. It could have happened to me if I didn't have you. Point is, it's not your fault. It could have happened to me anyway, but at least you're here to help me now."

You: Mycroft kissed him softly, threading his fingers into Greg's hair. "Perhaps, yet I'm still sorry," Mycroft replied. "I just want you to know that."

Stranger: "Thanks," Lestrade smiled at Mycroft and rested his forehead against Mycroft's. "Everything will be okay, I know it."

You: The doctor walked in at that point, clearing his throat. "I have the results of the MRI if you two are interested," he said, amusement threading his voice.

Stranger: Mycroft sat up and looked back at the doctor. He brought his legs over the edge of the bed to sit normally and looked at him. "What's wrong with him?" he asked, fixing his hair.

You: "Well, as I said, it could be a few things," the doctor said, walking forward and pulling out another chair. "One of them is prosopamnesia. This usually results from damage to certain areas of the brain and is incurable. Another is swelling of the occipital and temporal lobes. This will cause a person to not be able to recognize facial features."

Stranger: "Is that curable?" Lestrade asked, sitting up straight and gripping Mycroft's hand hard.

You: "Yes it is," Doctor Jericho said. "And when I went over Mr. Lestrade's MRI I saw swelling on those lobes. His visual amnesia is caused by the swelling and should go away once the swelling goes down."

Stranger: "That's great," Mycroft smiled, looking at Greg. He felt relief flood him as he knew his lover would be alright.

You: "I do need to warn you, however," Doctor Jericho continued. "That there is a small chance the visual amnesia could be permanent. We won't know until the swelling goes down."

Stranger: "How small of a chance?" Lestrade asked, his heart dropping.

You: "If I had to hazard a guess, maybe 20%," Jericho said. "But most of the cases I've seen with this do recover completely."

Stranger: "You have to be one of the cases that recovers," Mycroft whispered, running a hand through Greg's hair and kissing the top of his head.

You: "Is there anything I can do to help raise the chance of recovering?" Lestrade asked, looking at the doctor with hope in his eyes.

Stranger: Mycroft turned back to the doctor as well, watching as he sighed, thinking.

You: "Nothing in particular, sadly," Jericho said, picking up Lestrade's chart and noting it. "I'd recommend getting rest and not doing anything strenuous. Keeping your blood pressure down should help keep the pressure in your skull down as well."

Stranger: "And what about him going home? When is he allowed to leave?" Mycroft asked slowly, hanging onto every word the doctor said.

You: "I'd like to keep him for observation at least a few more days. Mr. Lestrade did just wake up from a week-long coma," Jericho said, standing. "But after that, as long as he has no relapses, I'll release him to go home."

Stranger: Mycroft nodded. "Thank you," he said as the doctor left the room. He turned to Greg's. "At least you have a good chance of recovering," he said, kissing Greg's temple.

You: "A fairly good one, according to the doctor," Lestrade agreed. He wrapped his arms around Mycroft and buried his head in his neck. Now, with all the time they'd spent together, he really did believe it was Mycroft and wasn't nervous around him anymore.

Stranger: "I missed you, love," Mycroft whispered, kissing the top of Greg's head gently. "You scared me over the past week and a half."

You: "I'm actually kind of scared myself," Lestrade admitted, sighing quietly. "It's a huge part of my job, being able to recognize faces. What happens if the swelling goes down and I can't remember?"

Stranger: "Then... We'll figure something out," Mycroft whispered, his heart dropping at the pain in his lover's voice. "I promise, you'll be alright."

You: Lestrade nodded and laid his head down, keeping his arms wrapped securely around Mycroft. "You know, even with being in the coma, I'm still exhausted," he murmured. "Would you stay with me while I sleep?"

Stranger: "I wouldn't leave," Mycroft whispered, laying down next to Greg so his lover could get more comfortable.

You: Lestrade fell asleep, listening to Mycroft's breathing and hoping this visual amnesia was only temporary. Unfortunately, only time would tell.

\--------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: Sherlock checked himself in the mirror of Molly's bathroom one last time, making sure he looked nothing like himself. Nodding at himself in approval, he left the bathroom and went out to the living room, grabbing a leather jacket he had just bought for this meeting with John. He slipped it on and looked over his shoulder to see Molly enter from her room. He fixed his jacket in the mirror in the living room and said to her, "Going to meet John at the coffee house."

You: Molly nodded as she studied Sherlock's appearance. She didn't bother trying to argue him out of it or caution him yet again. Mycroft had been doing that for a week now. "You look nothing like yourself," she finally said. "I don't think John will catch on. Just make sure you change your voice."

Stranger: "I will," Sherlock said, turning to face her. "I'm kind of nervous actually. Just hanging out with him again and all."

You: "You'll be fine," Molly said, moving to pat Sherlock on the shoulder. "If you can get John to talk, it should be easier. That way, you won't have to make up as many lies or try to keep them all straight."

Stranger: "It's not that part I'm nervous about," Sherlock said. He noted Molly's confused tilt of the head and continued. "It's been two plus years since I've done anything like this with him. Sure, he doesn't know it's me, but what if I ruin something, or mess it up?"

You: "You guys fit together so well within a day of meeting each other, why do you think you won't do it again?" Molly asked reasonably. "Just think of it as you and John spending time in your flat or something. But don't let him think that way."

Stranger: Sherlock ran a hand through his hair and nodded. "I should be going," he said flatly. "I'm going to be late."

You: "Have fun, Sherlock," Molly said before heading into the kitchen to make lunch for herself.

Stranger: Sherlock hailed a cab and directed it towards the cafe he was meeting John. He sat silently in the back, watching out the window at the passing people, his heart doing little flips every time he reminded himself he was going to see John again.

You: John walked to the coffee house supporting himself with his cane. He still missed running through the streets with Sherlock and would sometimes go for long walks to reacquaint himself with the lesser-known parts of London. Spotting the man he knew as Dean, John walked up to him with a smile. "Hello," he said brightly.

Stranger: "Hey, John," Sherlock smiled, dropping his voice a few octaves as he spotted him. "How are you holding up?"

You: "Good, good," John said. "Got some good news. The friend that I was seeing at the hospital when I saw you just woke up. He's doing much better."

Stranger: "Oh? He woke up?" Sherlock asked, not able to keep the smile off his face. This was the first he heard of this and made a mental note to scold Mycroft later for not telling him. "Is he alright? Any serious damage?"

You: "According to his fiance, Greg can't remember faces but hopefully that will pass," John explained, sitting down. He would get coffee later, right now he just felt the need to talk.

Stranger: Sherlock sat across from John and crossed his legs. "Oh, he's getting married? Doesn't he remember his fiance?"

You: "Greg remembers everything but visual memories," John said. "When he looks at him, Greg sees a stranger."

Stranger: "Dear, that had to be upsetting," Sherlock frowned, wondering how Mycroft was holding up with things. "And his fiance? How is he doing?"

You: "I believe Mycroft is handling it as well as can be expected," John said. "He told me that he convinced Greg he really was his fiance. I can only assume he answered questions or something."

Stranger: "Well, I hope everything works out," Sherlock said, standing. "I'm heading in to get coffee. You want me to grab you something? I can only assume that your leg is bothering you?"

You: "It's not that bad right now but thank you," John replied, standing and grabbing his cane. "I'll go in with you. I always change my mind about what to get."

Stranger: Sherlock laughed and led the way into the coffee house. He ordered himself a large black coffee and stood to the side, listening to John.

You: "Caramel cappuccino," John ordered after Sherlock. "I like coffee but caramel sounds good." He smiled a bit self-deprecatingly as they moved to wait for their coffees.

Stranger: "Well, you have to treat yourself once in awhile, right?" Sherlock chuckled, letting his eyes scan over John when he looked away.

You: "Yes, guilty pleasures and all that," John agreed. He waited in silence, wondering what to talk about now. His name was called quickly, the drink an easy one to make.

Stranger: Sherlock moved over when his name was called right after John's. He let his hand brush the back of John's when he reached for his drink, but played it off by just taking his drink and moving towards the door, waiting for John to follow.

You: John followed after, staring at the back of Dean's head. That brush of fingers was something Sherlock had done often whenever he'd requested John hand him something. Shrugging it off as coincidence, John took a seat at the same table they were at before.

Stranger: Sherlock sat down and sipped his drink, watching across the street at the crowed of people. "You ever finish that novel?" he asked, peeling his eyes away from the mass of people and turning back to John.

You: "I did and I've finished editing it," John laughed. "Though sometimes I still feel unsatisfied with how I left it. I'm going to try and get it published."

Stranger: "That's really cool," Sherlock smiled, sipping his coffee again. "You'll have to tell me if you get that done."

You: "Sure, I can do that," John nodded. "How about you? Anything interesting happen to you lately?"

Stranger: "Not really," Sherlock shook his head. "No new cases really, nor anything in my personal life. Life is quiet. I don't mind it, but sometimes it's upsetting coming home to an empty flat."

You: "I know that feeling. It's... draining sometimes," John replied sadly. He took a sip of his cappuccino, the caramel giving enough flavoring to the unsweetened coffee.

Stranger: "It really is," Sherlock frowned into his coffee.

You: "That's part of why I started writing," John admitted. "It gave me something to do, something to fill the hours. And the clicking of the keys helped fill the silence in my flat."

Stranger: "Does music not work for you?" Sherlock asked, meeting John's eyes again. Those eyes were just so longing, so deep with depression that he was trying too hard to hide. That he was always trying to hide.

You: "The only music I can stand anymore reminds me too much of my friend," John sighed and started spinning his coffee cup in place on the table. "He played the violin beautifully and though he woke me up often at 3 in the morning, I miss it."

Stranger: "You miss it?" Sherlock asked, tilting his head to the side. "I didn't think you would if he woke you at three in the morning."

You: "Oh, believe me, I was angry then," John laughed. He stopped spinning the cup long enough to take another drink. "But when I first moved in and I had horrible nightmares, I'd hear him playing something soothing and I was always able to get back to sleep. I never thanked him."

Stranger: "Maybe he just... Understood," Sherlock smiled, watching John finger the lip of his cup.

You: John looked up into the blue eyes of his companion and wondered. "I hope he did," John finally said. "There's a lot I hope he understood. Things that I never got the chance to tell him. But this shouldn't be all about me. Tell me something about you."

Stranger: "What do you want to know?" Sherlock asked with a smile, leaning back in his chair.

You: "I don't know, anything I guess," John said, taking another drink of his coffee. "What got you into working with Scotland Yard?"

Stranger: "My interest in mysteries," Sherlock smiled. "I used to steal my brother's books from his room and read them late into the night. They drew me in."

You: "You ever read The Hardy Boys?" John asked, a smile crossing his face. "I used to read those under the covers when I should have been asleep."

Stranger: "Never heard of them," Sherlock frowned, thinking. "Were they good?"

You: "They were good when I was young," John said, smiling fondly. "But they aren't exactly classic literature."

Stranger: Sherlock chuckled deeply and imagined John under the covers of his bed with a flashlight as a little kid. "What about now? What do you read?"

You: "Just popular murder mysteries and the like," John said, shrugging his shoulders. "There isn't any one author I favor over others. How about you? What do you read?"

Stranger: "I actually don't read much," Sherlock shrugged. "I re-read some of the older books my brother used to have that got me into murder to begin with, but not much else."

You: John tilted his head to the side slightly, a small frown crossing his face. "So what do you do in your spare time?" he asked curiously.

Stranger: "Play guitar," Sherlock lied quickly. "That, or sometimes I just blast music and rest."

You: "Sounds interesting," John said, taking a sip of his cooling cappuccino. "So tell me something else about you? Maybe where you're from?"

Stranger: "I'm sad to say that's a bit boring of an answer for me. I'm from here. Nothing special."

You: "It's not boring. London is an amazing place," John argued. He fell silent then, this whole encounter starting to take on the feel of a date. He wasn't sure if he was ready for that. Or even if it was what he wanted.

Stranger: Sherlock saw John freeze, his body just slightly tensing. "Are you alright?" he asked, watching John think over something deeply.

You: "No, I'm fine, just a stray thought," John replied, forcing a smile onto his face. He reminded himself that this was just coffee with an acquaintance, someone who worked for Scotland Yard as he did at one point. "What do you do at work when there aren't any suicides?" he asked, to push past the awkward silence.

Strangers: "File reports mostly," Sherlock said, watching John closer. "When none of that needs doing, I normally just hang out in my office."

You: "I can only imagine that your job must be difficult," John said, shrugging one shoulder. "Being bored when there are no cases but knowing that someone's died when you do have them."

Stranger: "Yeah, there's never really any middle ground," Sherlock said, shrugging and bringing his coffee up to polish it off. "But it's what I love to do, so I can't complain."

You: John nodded at that, a grin stealing across his face. He finished off his cappuccino and played with the cup as he said, "Well, fair's fair. You can ask me whatever you want since I've been asking you all these questions."

Stranger: "Alright," Sherlock smiled and leaned back, thinking for a moment. "What made you want to be a doctor?"

You: John thought about that for several moments, turning his cup in circles on the table. People asked him this all the time and he usually had a standard answer ready. For some reason, this time he wanted to give a truer answer. "I don't like the idea of people being hurt and not being able to fix them," he finally said slowly. "I want to save them, put them back together again."

Stranger: "That's a pretty good reason," Sherlock couldn't help the ping of pride that went through his chest as he thought about how much good this man had done, knowing that he was his. "Was there anything else you wanted to be growing up?"

You: "You know, you're the second person to ask me that," John said, chuckling lightly. "And I wanted to be a writer when I was a kid. Hopefully, that comes true soon."

Stranger: "I think it might," Sherlock smiled, standing to toss his cup in the recycle. He held his hand out in question to take John's cup as well.

You: John handed the cup over and watched as Dean arced it elegantly into the trash. Some of his movements reminded John strongly of Sherlock. That was part of the reason he had invited the man out for coffee, if he was honest with himself. Though he was growing to like him on his own merits. "Did you ever want to do something else when you were younger?" John asked.

Stranger: "Oh, God yes," Sherlock grinned, sitting down. "Hundreds of things, it basically changed every day. Artist, musician, doctor, detective, lawyer, you name it." He laughed and rolled his eyes. "My childhood was an interesting one."

You: "Sounds like it if you had that many interests," John replied, smiling. "What was it like?"

Stranger: "What was what like?"

You: "Your childhood," John said. "Why was it interesting?"

Stranger: "Just how many toys I begged my parents for, with each new interest came something new I had to have," Sherlock chuckled.

You: "I played with Lincoln Logs a lot as a kid," John admitted, laughing at the image of a young Dean begging for toys. "My older sister used to scoff at them but late at night when we couldn't sleep, we'd build big log buildings."

Stranger: "I used Legos when I was a kid and wanted to be a architect. My parents bought me these huge boxes filled with Legos and I build an exact scale replica of the Eiffel Tower." That was actually true, at one time, Sherlock actually wanted to be an architect and had built an exact replica of Eiffel Tower.

You: John laughed at that, wondering what the finished building had looked like. "Have you ever seen the Eiffel Tower?" he asked curiously. "I've never been to France but I want to go see it."

Stranger: "Only online," Sherlock shrugged. "I've never been, but I've always wanted to go."

You: John nodded happily and the conversation trailed off into a silence again. He found it easier and easier to just sit here with Dean, as if he was someone he'd known all his life.

Stranger: Sherlock watched as John looked over the crowds that passed the small cafe. He smiled a little as John's eyes went from the dull depression he saw in them when they first sat down, to a small glow that overtook his entire face, making it glow.

You: John focussed back on Dean's face and smiled. "Sorry, I keep turning it around and asking you questions," John laughed. He waved his hand above the table in a 'go-ahead' gesture.

Stranger: "I really don't have anything else to ask..." Sherlock shrugged. "Do you have more to ask me?"

You: "I don't know," John hedged, biting a little at his bottom lip. "I don't want to get... too personal, you know?"

Stranger: "I understand. Why don't you ask, and if it is too personal, we can just skip over it?" Sherlock smiled, leaning on his arms on the table.

You: John smiled back and thought for a moment, trying to decide what to ask. "All right," he said. "How about your taste in music? What do you like to listen to?"

Stranger: "I listen to mostly instrumental, but I don't mind most music," Sherlock said. "What about you?"

You: "My friend got me into classical," John replied, smiling wistfully at the memory. "But I also listen to all kinds of music." He swallowed lightly when he saw Sebastian Moran walking along the sidewalk. John mustered up a smile when Moran caught sight of him, waving and weaving through the tables to sit down in an empty chair.

Stranger: Sherlock's heart dropped as Moran sat down with them and shook John's hand. He cursed under his breath and, his mind racing, searched through his thoughts on how he could keep John safe without actually telling the men in front of him who he really was.

You: "John, good to see you!" Moran said heartily. He looked at Sherlock with a curious expression on his face before holding out a hand. "Sebastian Moran. How are you?"

Stranger: "Dean Michaels," Sherlock said, shaking the hand he offered. "Fine, and yourself?"

You: "Fine, fine," Moran said, dismissing Sherlock and turning back to John. "So, what have you been up to lately, John? Your friend doing any better yet?"

Stranger: "He woke up," John said, nodding. "But he can't remember whose name goes to whose face. He doesn't recognize anyone."

You: "That's bad luck, huh?" Moran said, layering his voice with false sympathy. He felt the twitch from Sherlock next to him, turning to study the man. "Something wrong?" Moran asked archly.

Stranger: "No," Sherlock shook his head, his eyes studying the man. He's so close to him, it was a miracle that he didn't recognize him from shooting him. He could only hope. "Nothing at all."

You: John looked from Sherlock to Moran and back again, sensing a tension from Sherlock. Though he couldn't understand why the man he knew as Dean would have a problem with Moran. "I'm sorry," John said. "Do you guys know each other or something?"

Stranger: "No, I do not believe so," Sherlock said as Moran glared at him. He dug a nail into the palm of his hand, trying to keep himself from spilling something that Moran could use against them.

You: "Ok," John said, his tone conveying a certain disbelief in that. He looked at his watch and realized that if he wanted to see Lestrade today, he would need to hurry since visiting hours were almost over. He really wanted to see his friend, even though Mycroft hadn't called since he'd told John Lestrade had woken up a few days ago. "I should probably get going," John continued, moving to stand.

Stranger: "Oh, alright," Sherlock said, standing as well. "I guess I should be going too. It's getting late."

You: "It was nice meeting you for coffee," John said, smiling and holding his hand out to Sherlock. "And it's always good seeing you again, Colonel."

Stranger: "It was nice to see you, John. And to meet you, Mr. Moran," Sherlock grinned through his teeth. "Maybe we can meet again, John."

You: "Sure, that would be good," John replied. He nodded at Moran and walked away, feeling as if he was escaping a trap. Though whose trap it was, he couldn't say. Pulling out his phone, he sent a text to Mycroft.

Stranger: Hello, John. How are you? -MH

You: I'm fine, thanks. How are you and Greg? - JW

Stranger: Greg is still unable to recognize anyone's face, but the swelling is going down. And I am fine, thank you, John. -MH

You: Is it alright if I come over to the hospital to see him? - JW

Stranger: Sure, he said it's fine. He wants to see you too, so come on over. -MH

You: Good. Be there in a little bit. - JW. John put his phone away and felt better about Lestrade's recovery. It still didn't seem like he'd woken up since John hadn't actually talked to him yet. He took a cab to the hospital and walked up to Lestrade's room.

Stranger: "Evening, John," Mycroft said as John entered the room, still sitting on the edge of Greg's bed and holding his hands in his. "Have a nice ride over here?"

You: "It was uneventful," John replied, moving into the room slowly and smiling at Lestrade. "Hey, Greg. It's good to see you awake."

Stranger: "I don't recognize you at all..." Lestrade muttered slowly, shaking his head. "God... I want to... I really want to..."

You: "It's all right," John said soothingly, sitting on the other chair in the room. "You just have to wait a bit, that's all. When the swelling goes down, I'm sure you'll remember just fine."

Stranger: "What if I don't?" Greg asked, looking at John then to Mycroft. "I'm... not even sure I know who you both are. I have to go with what you say."

You: "You'll just relearn who we are," John replied, slanting a worried glance at Mycroft. "You want me to prove I am who I say? Here's my ID." John pulled out his driver's license and handed it over to Lestrade.

Stranger: Lestrade studied the ID carefully, nodding after a while and handing the card back to John. "I'm sorry, I believe you," Lestrade said, voice soft.

You: "Don't be sorry. I know this is probably difficult for you," John said. "We must look like absolute strangers to you."

Stranger: "You do," Lestrade nodded sadly. "I want to remember you guys. I know you're both really close to me, but I can't remember.."

You: Mycroft reached over and twined his fingers with Greg's again. He squeezed gently before saying, "Relax, love. It'll come back to you. But stressing yourself over it isn't going to help."

Stranger: "I know, you're right..." Lestrade said, pulling Mycroft closer to him, just needing the closeness.

You: "Who's your doctor, Greg?" John asked, after giving Mycroft a minute to comfort Lestrade. "I was wondering if there was a chance I could see your MRI?"

Stranger: "Want me to call him in?" Mycroft asked, turning to John. "That way, maybe, we can get some new updates on Greg's health as well."

You: "Could you?" John said, nodding. Mycroft pressed the call button and explained that he wanted to speak with Dr. Jericho when he had a few moments free. The nurse nodded and left to page him.

Stranger: They sat in the room in silence as they waited for the doctor to join them. John made small talk with Lestrade and Mycroft, and smiled slightly when he watched them share a light, lingering kiss.

You: Dr. Jericho walked in and smiled cheerfully at John. "Dr. Watson! Been a while since I've seen you around. What can I do for you?" he asked.

Stranger: "Evening Dr. Jericho. My friend here recently had an MRI done to see how much swelling he had in the frontal lobe. I was wondering if we could go over it? Look it over?"

You: "He would have to ok it," Jericho replied, glancing up at Lestrade. "But as long as it was ok with Mr. Lestrade, I don't see why not."

Stranger: John turned to Lestrade, who nodded at the doctors. John turned back to Dr. Jericho with a small smile. "Doesn't seem like he'll mind."

You: Jericho nodded and left the room to get Lestrade's MRI images from the files. When he came back, he hung them on the lighted screen near the bed and gestured to John.

Stranger: John stood and moved over to the lighted screen, making sure not to block Mycroft or Lestrade's view. He crossed his arms over his chest as he looked on.

You: John could see the areas on the film that looked darker and denoted the swelling. Most of the swelling was in the occipital lobe, which explained while Lestrade had the visual amnesia rather than another type. The swelling in the temporal lobe was smaller. "Have you taken any more scans since these?" John asked.

Stranger: "No, we wanted to wait a little bit to see if it was needed," Dr. Jericho said, turning to John. "Why, what were you thinking, Doctor?"

You: "Well, it's been a few days since he woke up. I was wondering if the swelling had gone down since then," John replied thoughtfully. "You might be able to judge better if Greg was going to get his memories back by watching the swelling. But neuroscience isn't exactly my area."

Stranger: "If you wish for another MRI, we will gladly do it, as long as Mr. Lestrade and Mr. Holmes agree as well," Dr. Jericho said, turning to the couple on the bed.

You: John turned to Lestrade and Mycroft as well, waiting for one of them to speak. "You really think it will help?" Lestrade asked doubtfully, staring at John.

Stranger: "I don't think it would hurt," John shrugged, giving Lestrade a apologetic glance. "At worst, we just won't be able to tell if your memory comes back."

You: Lestrade looked at Mycroft, silently asking him what he thought. Mycroft nodded, squeezing the hand he still held in his own. Lestrade turned back to the doctors and said, "All right. It didn't hurt the first time so I don't see why not."

Stranger: "When can we get him in?" John asked, turning back to Dr. Jericho.

You: "I'll have to check the schedule, but possibly today or tomorrow," Jericho replied. He pulled the films off the lighted screen and placed them back in the folder. "It was nice seeing you again, Dr. Watson. I'll let you all know when the next test is scheduled." Jericho walked out then and John sat back down in the chair.

Stranger: "I'm sorry you have to go through all this," John said, looking down at Leatrade. "I know it's difficult. And tests don't help, do they?"

You: "Nothing seems to help right now," Lestrade replied sadly. "It's hard to see how I'm ever going to get my memory back. And even if I don't, what will I do then? I have to make everyone prove who they are every single time I meet them because I don't recognize them or even remember their faces."

Stranger: Mycroft moved closer and squeezed his lover's hand gently. "I'm sure everything is going to be okay, love," Mycroft whispered, leaning over to peck Greg on the forehead. "I'm sure the swelling will go down and everything will go back to the way it was." He hated seeing Greg like this, so upset and scared. It killed him inside to see Greg to helpless, and not being able to help him hurt him even more.

You: "If it doesn't, I need to figure out what I'm going to do for a living," Lestrade said softly. Neither he nor Mycroft noticed when John got up and left silently to give them some privacy. "I won't be able to continue being a DI if I can't remember faces."

Stranger: "Is there something else you can do in that area of your job?" Mycroft asked gently, looking at his lover's eyes, not having him return the glance. "Paper work? Or files?"

You: Lestrade thought about that in silence, a sneer curling his lip. "There are other jobs I could possibly do," he admitted. "But after my work as a DI? Running a whole division? It would be several huge steps backward." Lestrade closed his eyes and laid back, depression taking hold of him.

Stranger: "Babe," Mycroft whispered, leaning over his lover and resting his forehead against Greg's. "I know how important your job is to you; how much you love it. I'm sure you'll be able to do it again soon, but please, even if something does go wrong and you can't, don't get too upset... I'm sure we can find something that you'll love just as much, if not more. Maybe you can even do something with me? I don't know, but I wouldn't rest till you're happy."

You: Lestrade nodded, more for Mycroft's benefit than his own. He didn't really know how to be anything other than a police officer, didn't know if he could. At that moment, John knocked on the door and walked in with Jericho. "We've had a cancellation so we can get you in in an hour."

Stranger: "Great," Mycroft said, sitting up. "Would you mind if we were alone till then?"

You: Jericho nodded and noted Lestrade's chart again before leaving the room. "Sure, can you guys call me later?" John asked, nodding at both of them. "I should probably head home. I can see the films tomorrow."

Stranger: "Alright," Mycroft nodded, giving John a small smile. "I'll text you tomorrow when I get here. Than we can go over them together and hear your opinion."

You: "Have a good day then," John said before walking out. He headed home, a quiet dinner awaiting him. Mycroft turned back to Greg and said, "I need to leave soon as well. My boss has me working on something big and I think I have a way of finally dealing with Moran."

Stranger: "So you can't stay?" Lestrade asked, pulling Mycroft down gently till he could reach up and peck him on the lips. "Alright... Mind sharing your plan?"

You: "Believe me, I wish I could," Mycroft said softly, leaning in to press another kiss to Greg's lips. "And for my plan, my superiors caught on to a trend in deaths. The snipers were all on a watch-list for potential recruitment. If I play my cards right, I can frame Moran for their murders and kill him with government sanction."

Stranger: "That's great," Greg smiled. "Maybe I can-" he trailed off, the smile fading. He sighed, and leaned back into his pillow, closing his eyes. "I can't... Not if this doesn't get better..."

You: Mycroft hugged Greg close to him, pressing his face to the other man's shoulder for a few moments. He couldn't let Greg see his worry or fear. When Mycroft could control his expressions again, he pulled back and said, "It will get better. You just have to be patient, love. The swelling will go down and you'll remember."

Stranger: "I hope so..." Greg muttered, enjoying the warmth of his lover against him. He moved Mycroft with gentle touches until he was laying next to him. "I hate this..."

You: "I know, love, but it will be fine," Mycroft promised. "I'll do just about anything to make sure you're fine." They talked for the next hour until the same technician as last time came to wheel Greg away. "I'll be waiting here until you get back," Mycroft said.

Stranger: "I love you," Greg said with a small smile as the nurse rolled him away. "I'll see you soon."

You: Mycroft waited in the chair, checking his phone periodically for any updates from Anthea. About 45 minutes later, she texted him that she finally had everything in place to frame Moran. Mycroft grinned wolfishly and started making plans to bring the information to his boss in the next couple days. As he finished, Greg was brought back in.

Stranger: Greg smiled to Mycroft as he was wheeled in. He got back into bed with the nurse's and Mycroft's help and took Mycroft's hand as the nurse said, "The results should be ready in about one hour or so."

You: "Thank you," Lestrade replied, nodding at the nurse in thanks. He looked back at Mycroft and said, "You look pleased. Something good happen while I was gone?"

Stranger: "Anthea got everything set up. I may be able to frame Moran sooner than I thought," Mycroft smiled after the nurse left. "We may be able to get married sooner than I thought, if..." He paused, wondering what was going to happen to them if Greg's memory didn't come back. "If..."

You: "If John is safe," Lestrade said softly, dropping his gaze. "Are you still going to want to marry me, if I don't get my memory back?"

Stranger: Mycroft paused for a long moment. "It's not a matter of if I want to or not," he muttered at length. "It's if you want to or not. I don't know how you feel not truly remembering who I am... I don't want... You unhappy..."

You: "I still want to marry you," Lestrade assured Mycroft. "I still remember everything about you, I just don't recognize you." He took Mycroft's hand and twined their fingers together. He pressed a kiss to Mycroft's knuckles and continued, "I love you. I don't want to imagine living without you."

Stranger: "You're sure, right?" Mycroft asked, looking at Greg sadly. "I don't want to lose you, but I want you happy. Your happiness comes before mine, love."

You: "I'm sure," Lestrade replied, brushing another kiss over Mycroft's hand. "And the more time I spend with you, the more I'm convinced you are Mycroft. Though I have to admit, some fine details are starting to come back to me. Do you have a... birthmark about the size of a quarter on your back?"

Stranger: "Y-yes!" Mycroft said, a smile starting to steal his features. "I do! Is that just something you remember, or can you actually picture that?"

You: "Both I think," Lestrade said, his eyes scrunching together as he thought. "I remember kissing it and thinking that it was shaped a bit like an apple. And it's a lot darker than the rest of your skin so it really stands out."

Stranger: "Oh, love, that's great," Mycroft said, leaning over to kiss Greg gently. "Can you remember anything else? About anyone?"

You: "I think... John has dark blonde hair," Lestrade said slowly. "And Sherlock has dark hair and light blue eyes. Right?"

Stranger: Mycroft let the full smile take over and couldn't help his heart pick up in rate. "Oh, babe, that's right. That's all right!"

You: Lestrade smiled wider, relief coursing through him. "If I'm remembering small bits like this, maybe all my memory will come back," he said, voice hoarse. "Maybe I'll be able to remember you."

Stranger: "I hope so, love," Mycroft whispered, squeezing Greg's hand. "I miss you. I miss the real you, the one that knows me and isn't laying in a hospital."

You: Before Lestrade could reply, Dr. Jericho knocked on the door and walked in holding the films for the second MRI. "I examine these," he said, brandishing the films. "And it looks like Dr. Watson was right. The swelling is markedly down in the occipital lobe."

Stranger: "So he should go back to normal?" Mycroft asked excitedly.

You: Jericho paused before speaking, gathering his thoughts. "It's a bit early to tell but I see no damage in the areas where the swelling has gone down. With luck, Mr. Lestrade should be able to remember everything perfectly well within a few weeks."

Stranger: "That's great news," Mycroft said, relieved. "Do you know when we will be able to tell for sure? Or do we just have to sit around and wait?"

You: "We have to wait for the rest of the swelling to go down," Jericho replied. "After that, I don't know. The brain is still the one organ we haven't completely figured out yet."

Stranger: "Well, thank you," Mycroft nodded as Dr. Jericho set down the photos and left the room. "Sounds like you will be back to normal, I hope," he said to Greg.

You: "I hope so too," Lestrade replied. "I'm kind of hesitant to try to remember anything about you because I can't be sure if it's something I'm observing now rather then remembering. Do you think we should tell John about the results and the bits I did remember?"

Stranger: "I think we should," Mycroft nodded. He pulled out his phone to send a message.

You: John, Greg is remembering bits and pieces. Dr. Jericho said the swelling in his occipital lobe was down and hopefully he'd start to remember more over the next few weeks. - MH

Stranger: That's great news! Mind if I swing by tomorrow to check out the photos myself? -JW

You: Of course. I wouldn't mind a second opinion and neither would Greg. See you around 1? - MH

Stranger: Sounds good. Will you be off work then? -JW

You: I should be free yes. See you then, John. - MH

Stranger: Good night, Mycroft. -JW

You: "John will be here tomorrow around 1," Mycroft told Greg, sliding his phone back into his pocket. "And I'm afraid I have to leave, love, to get into work early enough to be done by lunch."

Stranger: "Alright, will you call me if plans change?" Lestrade said, taking Mycroft's hand.

You: "Of course," Mycroft replied, smiling. He leaned forward and captured Greg's lips, gently moving his own against the other man's. "I love you and good night," Mycroft murmured against Greg's skin.

Stranger: "I love you too," Lestrade muttered, catching Mycroft's lips again.

You: Mycroft melted into the kiss for several seconds before standing up and giving Greg a sad smile. "I better go before the nurses kick me out. I'll call you in the morning," he said. Mycroft walked out of the room and headed home, the flat still so empty without Greg inside.

Stranger: "Bye," Greg called sadly after him. The room fell quiet and too cold as soon as Mycroft's back disappeared around the corner. He leaned back into the pillows and closed his eyes, trying to sleep through the long, lonely night he knew was ahead of him.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------

You: The next morning, Mycroft headed into his office and gathered together all the paperwork Anthea had put together. He laid it all before his superior, outlining all the reasons why Moran was the one killing the snipers. Once finished, he sat back in his chair and waited for his superior to respond.

Stranger: "And you believe this is enough for us to believe that Mr. Moran is the killer?" the superior asked, crossing his arms and leaning back in his chair to look at Mycroft. "Care to explain a little more?"

You: Mycroft took a deep breath as he marshaled his thoughts. "Moran was in each city when the men were killed," Mycroft explained. "He worked with each of them when they were all in the military. He was discharged first, just short of dishonorably. They may have had something to do with that. This may all be revenge for him losing his career."

Stranger: "And how do you prove all this? Where's the paper work that says he was in those towns when these men were killed?" The superior asked. "I need proof of everything before I can send out men to kill him."

You: "My assistant Anthea was able to track Moran using his most common aliases," Mycroft explained, pulling out the paper with his movements on it. "As you can see, a James Moran and Sebastian Moriarty were his most common names and one of those men was in each city when the snipers were killed."

Stranger: "And you know he was the one killing them? What proof do you have of that?"

You: "I looked over the ballistics reports for the men who were shot. The bullets match the gun registered to Moran. I'm guessing with the man thrown out of the window after he had his head bashed in, but the timing fits," Mycroft said.

The Superior sighed and looked at the papers on his desk again, scanning the top page. "I just don't know for sure if it's enough information. We have to get the police in on it all and see what they think," he said slowly, sitting up and picking up the papers. "We have to be sure this is who did it."

You: "I understand," Mycroft said, his heart sinking. "The usual detective I liaise with is in the hospital. Is there an inspector you'd prefer I speak with?"

Stranger: "Any would be fine, as long as they could get the job done," the superior said, standing and handing Mycroft the papers. "Of course, I know you normally work with a DI Lestrade, who happens to be the head of the very division in which I think would be most suitable. I do think we should wait till we can get him and his team on the job."

You: "I think we can do that," Mycroft nodded, hope rising again. If he had Greg on his side for this... Though he didn't want to think about the lines he might have to ask his fiance to cross. "Greg Lestrade should hopefully be back to his job within the next few months and Moran seems to be in hiding. I think we have some time."

Stranger: "Excellent," the superior said, slipping on his coat. "I do hope you forgive me, but I have a meeting across town that I really should have left for already. Send me updates on Mr. Lestrade's status and any other information you may gather."

You: "Of course," Mycroft said, nodding. He gathered up the papers that had been strewn across the desk and placed them neatly back in the file. He stood and slipped on his own coat, leaving with his superior. The whole meeting had taken less time than he'd expected, it was barely 11, and he decided he wanted to surprise Greg with some of his favorite food. Heading to a restaurant, Mycroft ordered two meals to go and headed to the hospital with the food.

Stranger: Lestrade lay in his hospital bed and stared sadly at the ceiling. It was only about 11:30, but he wished Mycroft was here already. He was bored and lonely and wanted nothing more than to just be able to talk to his lover. He was slowly remembering bits and pieces of information about Mycroft, hazily being able to picture him in his mind. Maybe he was close to recovery. Sitting up with a heavy sigh, he flicked on the TV and turned on a detective show.

You: Mycroft smiled to himself as he heard the familiar voices of the show Greg was watching. It was one they sat together and watched often, the DI complaining here and there about proper procedure. Opening the door carefully, Mycroft strode in, the smile still on his face. "Morning, love," he said cheerily. "I got out of work early and brought your favorite. You must be getting tired of hospital food."

Stranger: Lestrade sat up and smiled, muting the TV. "Morning! And yes, I have been. I'm glad you're here," he said, moving his legs so Mycroft could sit down on the bed next to him.

You: Mycroft handed Greg's share over, consisting of shrimp spaghetti. He opened his own pasta and said, "You look better rested today. How are you feeling? Any more memories returning?"

Stranger: "A couple," Greg said, opening his pasta and taking a mouth full. "I can just barely picture you if I think hard enough, but it's hazy."

You: "That's wonderful, love!" Mycroft said. He took a bite of his pasta and sat in silence for several moments. "I talked with my superior earlier and he wants you to take over this case with Moran when you're back to work," Mycroft said. "I don't want to push you to cross any lines but your help would be invaluable for this."

Stranger: "Of course I'll help," Lestrade said, taking Mycroft's arm in his hand. "I'll help you any way I can, babe."

You: "Thank you," Mycroft said softly. "My superior wants to have proof that Moran is the one committing the murders and all the information Anthea put together is just a stepping stone. Will you be all right with... creatively writing your reports?"

Stranger: Lestrade sighed deeply, the smile fading. "I can do that..." he said at length. "I won't like it, but for you, I'll do it."

You: Mycroft took Greg's hand and squeezed gently. He had a tender but pained look on his face, knowing how much his job meant to Greg. "Thank you, love," Mycroft murmured. "I wouldn't be able to do this without you."

Stranger: "Anything for you," Lestrade whispered, pulling Mycroft gently down for a soft kiss. "I love you."

You: "I love you, too," Mycroft murmured against Greg's lips. He brought a hand up and brushed his fingers over Greg's cheek. "You need to tell me if there's a line you won't cross." He pulled back and started eating again, waiting for an answer.

Stranger: "I'll tell you when we get there," Lestrade said, eating as well

You: Mycroft nodded and kept their conversation light while they ate. The two men discussed John's novel, Greg's team at work, and some of the more memorable things Mycroft had come across while working in the government. Not long after they finished eating, John knocked on the door of Greg's room.

Stranger: "Afternoon, John," Lestrade smiled, happy he could just remember the man, it was a step forward. He watched as John came over and sat in the chair next to Lestrade's bed. Lestrade stole Mycroft's hand and said, "How are you doing?"

You: "You remembered me!" John exclaimed, smiling at both men. "That's a very good sign, Greg. And I'm doing fine. How are you both?"

Stranger: "Feeling better with each day," Lestrade smiled. "Er, at least a little." He squeezed Mycroft's hand and smiled at John.

You: "That's good. Really good. I believe you'll be able to regain the ability to completely recognize faces," John said. He stood and pulled the films out of the sleeve where Jericho had left them. Hanging them on the light screen, John studied the images. "I can definitely see a lot less swelling," he said.

Stranger: "Are there any for-sures yet?" Mycroft asked, standing and moving to stand next to John.

You: John studied the images further; everything seemed promising. "Well, the fact that Greg's already remembering things and placing faces means that there was most likely no lasting damage from the accident, the coma, or the swelling. I've already told you I'm not an expert but I believe Greg should be healed within the month."

Stranger: "That's great!" Mycroft smiled, turning to John. "Thank you for coming down here to look them over. It sounds promising, expert or not, coming from an amazing doctor."

You: John came back towards the bed and sat down on the chair, giving Mycroft a slightly odd look. "I can tell you're relieved," John said wryly, sharing a smile with Lestrade. "You aren't usually that effulgent with your praise. But thanks."

Stranger: "Relief or not, you are an amazing doctor," Mycroft smiled down at Greg, glancing up at John. "I'm just so happy my love may be able to fully recognize me again."

You: John nodded and looked at Lestrade. "Have you been feeling any pain or dizziness?" he asked. "I want to make sure there is nothing else that might be wrong."

Stranger: "I got dizzy once, and I've had a few mild headaches, but nothing unbearable," Lestrade said, looking at John. "I figured it was normal though."

You: "That doesn't sound out of the norm for the swelling," John agreed, tilting his head to the side as he thought. "But if you have any serious pain you need to call the nurse or the doctor." After Lestrade promised he would, the three men talked a bit more before John excused himself and headed home. He felt a lot better than he had since Mycroft had first told him about the accident. With luck, John felt, things would go back to the way they were before for Mycroft and Lestrade.

\------------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: Mycroft parked the car and shut it down in front of his apartment. He looked over to Greg, who was in the passenger seat and smiling up at the building. "I'm glad you're coming back home, finally, love," Mycroft said softly, smiling at Greg's look of pure relief.

You: "I am too, Mycroft," Lestrade replied, staring up at the door to their flat. The doctors hadn't wanted to let him go home for a few more days. More and more of his memory returned and finally, three days after the last MRI, he was allowed to go home with Mycroft. The swelling was almost completely gone.

Stranger: "Shall I go up and I'll make some of that soup again?" Mycroft asked with a smile, leaning over to peck Greg's lips. "Maybe you could help? If you're up to it, that is. If not, you should lay down."

You: "I'm not a complete invalid, love," Lestrade replied, kissing Mycroft back. "I'll come with you and help. Some soup sounds delicious right now." He followed Mycroft into the kitchen, settling down at the table with a knife and cutting board.

Stranger: Mycroft handed Greg a few carrots and potatoes, turning to start boiling the water before joining him at the table to jullienne a few onions. They worked quietly, the only noise coming from the knife hitting the cutting board with dull thuds

You: Lestrade finished quickly, standing to dump the carrots in the pot. He turned and watched Mycroft, the other man's hands deftly slicing through the onion. He loved watching Mycroft, watching how the other man moved.

Stranger: Mycroft turned to see Greg staring at him, and smiled. "Sorry hun, I know I'm slow. I have to have things just so when I'm cutting because of that culinary class I took when I was younger. My chef taught us all these neat knife techniques and... Well... I've never been able to shake them," he blushed with a smile.

You: Lestrade shook his head as he smiled. "That's not what I was staring at," he said, his voice sounding almost like a caress. "I was watching you because I enjoy it. I've missed spending time alone with you." He moved towards Mycroft, wrapping his arms carefully around the other man's shoulders. The last thing Lestrade wanted right now was Mycroft cutting himself.

Stranger: Mycroft chuckled and raised his hand without the knife in it up to Greg's. "I've missed you too, love," Mycroft whispered, kissing the part of his arm he could reach. "I've missed you here. You don't know how empty this flat is without you."

 

You: Lestrade let his fingers brush against Mycroft's cheek and his other hand came up to rest on Mycroft's shoulder. "I'm glad I'm back. It was boring and lonely without you in the hospital." He leaned down to hug Mycroft tight, careful of the knife still in the other man's hand.

Stranger: Mycroft set the knife down and wrapped his arms around Greg, kissing his cheek. "Wait for tonight, love. You can finally be mine again."

You: "I'm looking forward to it," Lestrade replied, turning his head to catch Mycroft's lips. They continued the kiss for several moments, ignoring the onions on the cutting board and the pot on the stove. Only the ringing of the doorbell caused them to break apart. "Expecting someone?" Lestrade asked curiously.

Stranger: "I do not believe so..." Mycroft said slowly, sending a questioning look in the direction of the doorway. "Are you?"

You: Lestrade shook his head and let go of Mycroft's hand. He made his way to the front door, looking out through the peephole. When the familiar face of John met his eyes, Lestrade breathed a sigh of relief and opened the door. "John," he greeted him. "How are you?"

Stranger: "Fine, thanks," John smiled, hugging Lestrade in hello. "I'm glad to see you home. How are you holding up? Glad to be back?"

You: Lestrade smiled and stood back to let John into the flat, closing the door behind him. "I'm doing well. And it feels wonderful to be back home," Lestrade answered, leading John to the kitchen where Mycroft was still cutting up the onion.

Stranger: "I didn't know you cook," John smiled at Mycroft, watching the man chop the onions. He laughed a little and shook his head. "I guess I just figured you had people for that..."

You: Mycroft laughed warmly and stood up holding the cutting board with the onion on it. He dumped it on the pot and turned to John saying, "I do tend to have people cook for me. But Mummy decided when I was 16 and Sherlock was 8 that we were going to have cooking classes. Some of those things stuck with me and I like to cook for myself, or Greg, every once in a while."

Stranger: "That's really cool. You never cease to shock me. I didn't know Sherlock could cook," John said, thinking for a moment. "Sometimes I think I barely knew the man, from how little I actually know when you tell me..."

You: "The lessons didn't take too well with Sherlock," Mycroft laughed. "I think he was a little too young for them, to be honest. The instructor finally banned Sherlock from class when he made exploding pasta. Though John, you must never think you didn't know him. You knew him better than anyone else, even me. You were the one he let in."

Stranger: John nodded and smiled a little. He was glad that Sherlock had let him in like he did. "Why do I expect nothing more than that..." John chuckled, just picturing a young Sherlock getting screamed at by his teacher with a mess of pasta coating the walls and the boy. He couldn't help think how cute Sherlock must have been as a young boy, so innocent looking but so smart and devious as well.

You: Lestrade sat down at the table, motioning for John to take a seat as well. Mycroft continued putting the soup together then sat down once he was done. "So, John, what are you doing here?" Mycroft asked curiously.

Stranger: "Just thought I'd stop by to make sure Greg made it home alright," John said with a small smile. "I heard he was being released today so I figured I might as well check up on him."

You: "Thanks," Lestrade replied, taking Mycroft's hand again and threading their fingers together. "I'm doing better now that I'm home. I missed being here. How have you been, John?" Before John could answer, though, his phone beeped an incoming text message.

Stranger: John pulled out his phone and his eyes grew wide as he read the message. "He... wants to see me again. Says there's some things we didn't go over in our... last meeting," John said slowly, trying to take in the new fact that his lies may have been busted open.

You: "Anything else?" Mycroft asked sharply, leaning forward in his chair. He had to force himself to not snatch the phone from John's fingers to look at it himself. "And what things? I thought we covered everything in that pub, John."

Stranger: John handed the phone to Mycroft and let him read it himself. "I guess we didn't," John said slowly, running his hands over his face.

You: Mycroft studied the words, wondering why Moran had sent these specific ones. So broad, they could be referring to almost anything. "Did you see Moran again after the pub? Run into him in the street perhaps?" Mycroft asked, handing the phone back to John.

You: "Oh?" Lestrade said, curiousity in his tone. "What friend was this? Anyone we know?" He watched as John looked down at his fingers, one tapping randomly on the tabletop.

Stranger: "Dean... He's name's Dean..." John said slowly, tapping his finger as a distraction against the memory. "He reminds me... So much of Sherlock... You wouldn't believe it..."

You: "Really?" Mycroft asked, affecting surprise. He couldn't believe Sherlock had managed to pull off the trick that he wasn't actually Sherlock in front of John. Making a mental note to congratulate his brother's acting skills later, Mycroft said, "They say everyone has a twin out there somewhere. Maybe this man was Sherlock's. What did Moran say when he saw you?"

Stranger: John chuckled dryly before answering, "Not much, mostly just sat down, asked how I was and some small chat."

You: "That's all?" Mycroft pressed, worried about what Moran might be getting at. "Nothing suspicious or odd when he spoke with you?"

Stranger: "Not really..." John shook his head. "Not that I can think of anyway. Truth be told I was... A little distracted..."

You: Lestrade couldn't help the chuckle that burst out of him at John's admission. He raised his hands when John glared at him saying, "Hey, I understand. I've been there, John." Mycroft slanted a look at him, glad that John probably didn't understand. "Be that as it may," Mycroft said. "We need to discuss what John is going to do now. Moran is still dangerous."

"What did you mean..?" John asked slowly, looking at Lestrade. "And I agree, we should plan."

You: "Just that I know what it's like to be distracted by a pretty face," Lestrade said before Mycroft could say anything. At John's blank look he continued, "Or a handsome one, you know." John's mouth dropped open in surprise and he was speechless. "Anyway," Mycroft said, settling smoothly into the silence. "I think we should have you meet Moran in a public place again. Just to be safe."

Stranger: "I... was not attracted to... I mean... I could have easily... If it was called for..." John sighed and gave up on Lestrade. The thought that maybe he was attracted to Dean crossed his mind a few more times than he would have liked to admit. He turned to Mycroft and nodded. "That sounds good. Maybe we can place someone around the area just in case?"

You: Lestrade just chuckled but fell silent, not wanting to needle John further. It wasn't quite fair to without John knowing who exactly Dean was. "We should be able to do that," Mycroft replied. "Though I don't want too many people around in case Moran can recognize them. Ask him if you can meet in a few day's time."

Stranger: John typed out just that and sent the message to Moran. He threw the phone down on the table and turned back to them both. "Maybe two people, at the most. I agree we shouldn't have too many around, that could end badly," John said, nodding. "And I don't want either of you there either. You two are too easy to recognize, especially you, Mycroft."

You: "I agree, John. And I don't want to use the same operatives as we did last time in case Moran remembers their faces," Mycroft replied, nodding. He reached across the table and took Greg's hand, squeezing it gently. "I also think you should avoid joining the corporation he keeps trying to get you to join. I believe, from what he's said, Moran is trying to rebuild IOU."

Stranger: "Rebuild the IOU?" John asked slowly, watching Mycroft link hands with Lestrade. For a moment, he could just picture that being Sherlock and his hand, but the picture quickly faded. "I have no intentions of entering that... Club."

You: "I understand that," Mycroft said soothingly. "Nor would I want you to. I just wanted to pass along a warning about the situation. I could be completely wrong." The beeping of the phone interrupted Mycroft and he waited for John to pick it up.

Stranger: John read the message and handed the phone over to Mycroft and Lestrade. "Sound's like a yes to me," John said as Mycroft read the message.

You: Excellent, John! I would like to meet with you in the next few days if at all possible since I need to travel out of London soon. Can we meet at the same pub as last time? - Moran. Mycroft studied the text, his brow furrowing in thought. Did the sniper suspect something? Is that why he wanted to go to the same pub? Or was it just a convenient place both men knew? "Yes it does," Mycroft replied absently.

Stranger: "What should I say?" John asked as Mycroft handed his phone back to him. "I mean, would he suspect something if I asked to change the location? Would not changing it put me in more danger? What should I do?" John asked as he watched Mycroft, obviously deep in thought, stand, take his hand from Lestrade's and started pacing the length of the kitchen. John looked at Lestrade, who was just watching Mycroft pace back and forth, a slightly worried expression on his features.

You: Mycroft thought hard as he paced, his mind working through all the possible scenarios and their conclusions that he could think of. He felt exhilarated with this: this was what his mind was meant for. This was what he had trained for for most of his life. Finally, he turned back to John and said, "I think that pub makes a good choice. It's public and you both know the layout. I can also put in different agents and they won't be out of place. The only problem I see is that Moran knows where all the cameras are now. He can avoid them if he chooses. However, I think that pub is our best option. Text him back and tell him you'll meet him there."

Stranger: John typed out and sent the message, leaning back in his seat and sighing, thinking about how much he didn't want to do this anymore. He was honestly tired of Moran giving him problems and trying to kill him. It was just getting annoying now. "Should we use the ear pieces again?" John asked as Mycroft moved to stand behind Lestrade, placing his hand on one of his shoulders. "I mean, I don't know if you want to listen in again or not... or if your agents do?"

You: "I think we should," Mycroft nodded. He sat down and took Greg's hand again, twining their fingers together. "I want to keep you as safe as possible, John. You should try to keep this meeting as short as you can and give nothing to him."

Stranger: "Alright. What do you think it is that he wants from me this time around?" John asked, pocketing his phone after the confirmation text was received Moran and the date was set. "Next Saturday at noon, by the way."

You: "I have no idea, John, but it can't be good," Mycroft replied, staring down at his and Greg's joined hands. "I will have everything in place by then and I want you to wear the ear piece again."

Stranger: John nodded and looked down at his own hands, laced together on the table in front of him. He couldn't figure out what Moran wanted, and even if he figured out that John lied to him the first time, John couldn't see how he even got the first hint.

You: There was a sudden hiss as the soup on the stove boiled over the pot. Mycroft grimaced and got up to turn the heat down, stirring the soup as he did so. "It was great of you to stop by, John," he heard Greg say. "Was there anything else you wanted?"

Stranger: John watched Mycroft stir the soup before returning his attention back on Lestrade. "Not really, just wanted to check up on you. Make sure everything was alright, that you had made it home alright," John said, a small smile playing on his lips. "But I see Mycroft here is taking good care of you as always."

You: "Yes he is," Lestrade replied, giving Mycroft a small, gentle smile. "I'm glad you were able to come and visit, John. I hope everything works out with your meeting with Moran." Lestrade stood carefully and moved over to John to shake his hand and pull him into a hug.

Stranger: John returned the hug before Lestrade let go. He turned to Mycroft, holding out his hand. "Shall I see you Friday to sort everything out?"

You: "Yes, that would be good," Mycroft nodded. He led John out to the door, shaking his hand as John walked out. He shut the door and came back to Greg, pulling the other man into a hug.

Stranger: Lestrade hugged Mycroft back and pecked him on the cheek. "So what did you want to do? Eat first? Watch a movie while we eat? What?" Lestrade smiled, resting his chin on Mycroft's shoulder.

You: "Since you are the one finally coming home, why don't you choose, love?" Mycroft suggested, turning his head to press a light kiss to Greg's lips. "I think the soup's almost done."

Stranger: "I'd love to cuddle with a nice bowl of soup and watch a movie. Does that sound alright?" Lestrade smiled, returning the kiss and resting his forehead to Mycroft's.

You: "Of course," Mycroft replied, smiling down at Greg. "Go pick a movie and I'll bring out bowls of soup." He grabbed two bowls as Greg left the kitchen and filled when with soup, placing them on a tray to carry out to the living room.

Stranger: Lestrade went over to the huge selection of their combined movie collections. He picked out a comedy/mystery movie from Mycroft's DVD's and bent down to set up the movie, his butt in the air as he did so.

You: Mycroft let out a surprised laugh as he came into the living room and saw Greg leaning over the DVD player. Setting the tray on the coffee table, he walked up behind Greg and leaned down to fold him into a hug. "I could watch this movie all the time," he joked, breath ghosting over Greg's neck.

Stranger: Lestrade stood up and blushed a deep red, adjusting the tail of his shirt and clearing his throat as he chuckled embarrassingly. "Well... I mean, you do see it a lot, I guess," he joked with another embarrassed chuckle.

You: "Come on, soup's getting cold," Mycroft said, smiling at the blush on Greg's face. He sat down on the couch and held out an arm for Greg to sit next to him. Once he was seated, Mycroft handed him a soup bowl and pulled Greg up against him.

Stranger: Lestrade cuddled closer to Mycroft and picked up the remote, balancing the soup in his other hand. He started up the DVD player and got it to the movie's menu screen. "I found this in your collection, hope it's okay," Lestrade smiled, his finger hovering over the play button. "Have you watched it before? The box looked newer."

You: Mycroft studied the title screen and then shook his head. "No, I haven't got around to watching this one yet. What made you choose it?" He took a careful bite of his soup, smiling at the taste. The soup had come out perfect, in his opinion.

Stranger: "I don't know. A mystery and a comedy, just sounded really cool. I haven't seen one that was both before," Lestrade smiled, also taking a bite of his soup and loving the taste. "Amazing soup, by the way. Great job."

You: "Thanks, love," Mycroft said. He fell silent as the movie played, taking periodic bites of his soup so that he could wrap his arm around Greg fairly often. He watched the other man carefully, alert to any changes in him. Mycroft didn't want to head back to the hospital any time soon.

Stranger: Lestrade ate his soup in silence as the movie played. He laughed a few times, cuddling back to Mycroft and enjoying the feeling of his lover's laugher shaking his stomach and rolling smoothly against Lestrade's back. When he finished his soup, he took Mycroft's bowl and set it on the table, laying down against Mycroft's side and snuggling closer, enjoying the warmth.

You: Mycroft brushed his fingers over Greg's cheek, holding him gently against himself. It felt wonderful to have the other man back and out of the hospital. He pressed kisses to Greg's head and suddenly hugged him tightly, the thought of possibly having lost him flitting through his mind.

Stranger: Lestrade laughed as Mycroft suddenly hugged him. "You okay, baby?" he chuckled, tilting his head back far enough to capture Mycroft's lips in a soft kiss.

You: "Yeah, I will be," Mycroft said quietly, leaning his forehead against Greg's. "I just wondered what I would have done had I lost you in that accident."

Stranger: "Well, don't think about that, hun. I'm here with you now, the accident is over with. I know it was rough, but I'm here," Lestrade whispered, cupping Mycroft's cheek in his hand and turning to look at him easier. "I love you, Mycroft, and am so thankful to have you always by my side."

You: "I am too," Mycroft whispered back. "I'm happy that you're back. I've missed you, all the days you spent in the hospital." Mycroft tightened his arms around Greg and pressed kisses to his lips and cheeks. "Can we try never to do anything like that again?" he asked with a small chuckle.

Stranger: "Because I planned to get into a wreck and forget everything about who you were," Lestrade chuckled, his voice dripping with sarcasm. "I'm careful hun, I promise, and I'll try to be even more so."

You: Mycroft laughed at that, knowing that accidents did happen and they could never be sure when they would happen. He shifted so that Greg was lying across him and just hugged him, breathing in his scent. There was a sharp smell of hospital disinfectant but underneath it, Greg still smelled the same.

Stranger: Lestrade laughed as he felt Mycroft just breathe him in. "I guess the movie is over," he chuckled, leaning up to kiss Mycroft's forehead lightly.

You: "So it is," Mycroft replied, affecting a surprised tone. "What did you have in mind now?" He pressed closer to Greg, tucking his head in the crook of the other man's neck.

Stranger: "I think you know," Lestrade whispered into Mycroft's ear, adding a suggestive tone to his voice. He tucked his thumb into the band of Mycroft's pants and pulled at them lightly.

You: Mycroft chuckled as he tilted his hips up, allowing Greg to slide his pants further down his legs. Resting his hips back down, Mycroft slipped his hands underneath Greg's shirt, fanning his fingers over the skin of his back.

Stranger: Lestrade moved them both so Mycroft was laying under him and his hands supported him on either side of his head. "You're so beautiful from this angle," Lestrade chuckled, leaning down to kiss Mycroft hungrily.

You: "I could say the same about you," Mycroft said between kisses, working the shirt up Greg's shoulders and over his head. After tossing it to the floor, Mycroft slid his hands down Greg's chest, pressing lightly at the muscles flexing under his skin.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled at the touches and started working the buttons of Mycroft's shirt, going slowly on each on to send that shiver down his lover's spine that came when he caressed each inch of skin as it was revealed. He gently slid the shirt down his arms and threw it so it joined his shirt somewhere on the ground. "God, you really are amazing," he muttered, going down to kissed at Mycroft's bare chest.

You: Mycroft smiled and moved to the button of Greg's pants. He gently slid his fingers just under the waistband, tickling at the sensitive skin. When Greg shifted against him, Mycroft pressed a kiss to his lips and undid the button and zipper. He slid the pants down, trailing his nails down Greg's hips and legs as he did so.

Stranger: Lestrade lifted his hips to help Mycroft slid his pants off, resting back on top of them as soon as the fabric was off. He kissed Mycroft lightly on the nose and chuckled, grinding against his hips. "I need you, baby," he muttered, running his hands all the way down Mycroft's body and back up again, enjoying the feel of the soft, smooth skin.

You: "I can tell," Mycroft replied wryly, bucking his hips up against Greg's. "I need you just as much, though." He pulled Greg's head down and licked into his mouth, grinding against the other man. With his other hand, he reached between them and took both of their erections in hand. He stroked gently, letting the heat build between them.

Stranger: Lestrade's eyes fluttered closed as the heat built in his stomach, the pleasure pooling up. He moaned lightly and eagerly kissed Mycroft back, fighting for dominance of his own mouth. With one hand, he cupped Mycroft's cheek and pulled his face closer, the other supporting his body so he wasn't completely on top of Mycroft. He hissed into the kiss as his lover gave an extra slow stroke, sending chills all up and down his body.

You: "I love you, you know that, right?" Mycroft breathed, breaking the kiss. He stared deeply into Greg's eyes, convincing himself that the other man was indeed here, not gone and not stuck in the hospital.

Stranger: "I know, my love. And you know I love you just as much, correct?" he smiled lightly, seeing the longing and convincing twinkle in his lover's eyes. "You're mine forever, you won't get out of it that easily," he joked, nuzzling Mycroft's nose.

You: "Good," Mycroft said, smiling. He claimed Greg's lips again, his hand moving faster over them. A light sheen of sweat had broken out over his skin, providing more friction as they moved against each other.

Stranger: "God," Lestrade breathed into Mycroft's lips. "That's it, love. I'm done, turn over," he growled, running his hand from Mycroft's cheek to grip the side of Mycroft's ass. "I need you... now."

You: Mycroft nodded and turned carefully underneath Greg. He didn't want to knock the other man off the couch. Settling down on his stomach, Mycroft reached back and gripped Greg's wrist, anchoring them together again.

Stranger: Lestrade couldn't wait, pulling down both of their boxers and throwing them somewhere off into the room. He lined himself up and quickly pushed into Mycroft, throwing his head back in a hiss. "You... are so... tight," he panted, leaned down and resting his head between Mycroft's shoulder blades. "Missed... this... feels... good."

You: "Slowly, love, slowly," Mycroft hissed as a burning sensation mingled with the pleasure. "It's been a while since we were together." He held his hips still with his force of will, reminding himself that pushing back would hurt. Waiting while Greg slowly rocked in deeper was definitely one of the more exquisite forms of torture he'd experienced.

Stranger: "Sorry... Sorry," Lestrade chanted, slowly pulling out before pushing back in. "Need... you.." He nipped Mycroft's shoulder blade and sucked on the skin, feeling Mycroft tense under him.

You: "It's fine, just go slow," Mycroft replied, his grip still tight on Greg's wrist. As the pain slowly faded, he moved back against Greg, pressing him deeper inside. It felt wonderful and Mycroft's eyes fluttered closed, the better to feel everything Greg was doing to him.

Stranger: Lestrade nodded and held Mycroft's hips with his hands as he pressed in again, moaning lightly as he did so. He dug his nails into the soft skin as Mycroft tensed and he pulled out a little. He adjusted his angle slightly and pushed in again, trying to find the right spot.

You: "There," Mycroft gasped as Greg brushed over the nerves that sent shockwaves through his body. He jerked and moved his hips a little faster, urging the other man to move with him.

Stranger: Lestrade took the hint and started to pick up the speed, making sure to keep his angle and hit the nerves with each snap forward. He moaned and dug his finger tips into Mycroft as his lover made whimpers and noises of pleasure as Lestrade kept moving.

You: "Greg, god, I missed you," Mycroft groaned, digging his fingers into Greg's wrist. He bucked his hips hard, pressing himself against the cushions of the couch for the extra friction. He couldn't stop the gasps and moans coming from his mouth but he was matched by the ones coming from Greg's.

Stranger: Lestrade whimpered slightly and ran his tongue over Mycroft's sweaty back. "I-I missed you too," he muttered, his face flushing pink from the pleasure of all the movement. He snapped his hips forward extra hard and pushed Mycroft even more into the couch.

You: "Yes, harder now," Mycroft panted, arching into Greg's mouth. He had to let go of Greg's wrist to hold himself in place on the couch, one hand snaking underneath and wrapping around himself.

Stranger: "N-no," Lestrade whispered, pulled Mycroft's hand away and replacing it with his own. "If you did it, you'd be wasted in a few minutes. I want you to-to last, baby." Lestrade slowly started to pump Mycroft's member, going slowly and teasingly.

You: Mycroft moaned loudly, his hips snapping forward and back. He wasn't able to form coherent words anymore but it didn't matter. They fit together, knew each other so well, that they could almost read each other's minds.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled and picked up speed in both his hips and hands. "I love you," he whispered, biting his neck and sucking on the soft skin under Mycroft's ear.

You: "I... I love... you," Mycroft managed between pants, turning his head so that Greg could reach his neck easier. He could feel the tension pooling in his stomach, the pleasure coiling tightly around him. He pressed back against Greg hard, trying to pull him as deeply inside him as he could.

Stranger: Lestrade bucked forward and moved his hand to the base of Mycroft's member, squeezing the base hard to take him back from the edge. "I want you to last longer," he muttered, cutting Mycroft off from letting go.

You: "Bloody....tease," Mycroft replied, softening the remark with a smile. He turned his head and kissed Greg, slightly awkwardly. One hand took Greg's again, twining their fingers together.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled into the kiss and giggled lightly, not feeling as ashamed of the sound as he should have. "You better believe it," he smiled, kissing Mycroft back.

You: Mycroft settled into the rhythm they were setting, knowing that Greg could make this last as long as he wanted. He groaned loudly at the sensations, shifting his knees underneath himself so that he could push harder against Greg.

Stranger: "God, you are beautiful," Lestrade smiled, pressing in harder and deeper. "Do you want to finish?" he asked softly, resting his chin against Mycroft's shoulder and breathing directly into his ear.

You: "Yes, but I can wait," Mycroft breathed, shivering at the warm breath ghosting over his skin. "You're in control this time, love."

Stranger: Lestrade hummed happily and chuckled into Mycroft's skin. He began to pump his hand faster, pressing deeper into Mycroft and moaning lightly with each tight thrust.

You: Mycroft panted heavily, squeezing Greg's hand. He braced the other on the arm of the couch and bucked into Greg. Snapping his hips forward and back, Mycroft wrung out as much friction as he possibly could. "God, you feel so good inside me," he moaned, turning his head to look up at Greg.

Stranger: "And you... God," Lestrade muttered, bucking forward hard as Mycroft snapped back. "I'm... I'm close..." he muttered, panting on Mycroft's back.

You: Catching Greg's mouth again, Mycroft kissed him hungrily, all clashing teeth and tongue. He groaned into the other man's mouth, still unable to stop the noises that spilled from his throat. "Go ahead," he murmured, breaking the kiss to breathe over Greg's lips. "Let go, love."

Stranger: "I... want you to... as well," Lestrade panted, squeezing his eyes shut as the pleasure pooled in his stomach. "Please... come with me..."

You: Mycroft nodded and felt Greg release the pressure at the base of his erection. A few stroking sweeps up and he could feel his orgasm start to burst out. "Now," he murmured, melding his body to Greg's.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned and released, feeling Mycroft come only seconds after he started. "M-Mycroft," Lestrade screamed in a panted tone. "MYCROFT!"

You: Mycroft didn't release Greg's hand, even as they came down from their shared orgasm. He collapsed onto the couch, the warm weight of the other man on his back comforting. "I missed you," Mycroft murmured again, the sentiment something he couldn't help repeating.

Stranger: "I missed you too, baby," Lestrade whispered back, getting up enough to have Mycroft turn back over. "Can you flip back over love?" he chuckled.

You: "In a minute, I think," Mycroft laughed, stretching and hearing his joints pop a little bit. When he felt he could move again, Mycroft turned over and pulled Greg down so that he was resting on his chest.

Stranger: Lestrade kissed him gently on the nose and cuddle up close to his love. "You are amazing," Lestrade smiled, nuzzling Mycroft's neck.

You: "You are too. I'm glad you got your memory back and came back to me, Greg," Mycroft replied sleepily. Wrapping his arms loosely around Greg's back, he traced patterns on the skin of his back. Mycroft thought he'd never get enough of just touching Greg.

Stranger: "I am too," Lestrade said, closing his eyes as the patterns were traced. "Life without you isn't worth living."

You: "I don't want you doing anything drastic if something ever happens to me," Mycroft said seriously, opening his eyes to stare at Greg. "I don't want to think of you gone because of me. And as comfortable as this position is, maybe we should head upstairs to bed. I want to stretch out a little more with you."

Stranger: "Sounds like a good idea," Lestrade smiled, sitting up and helping Mycroft sit up and stand as he stood. He took his hand and started upstairs, opening the bedroom door and leading Mycroft close to the bed. "Should we shower first?" he asked, looking at the mess on Mycroft's stomach.

You: Mycroft looked down and shrugged. "Why not?" he said and led the way into the bathroom. He turned the water on and pushed Greg up against the wall to kiss him senseless while it warmed up.

Stranger: Lestrade melted into the kiss, his knees threatening to buckle. He kissed back with heat and his eyes fluttered closed.

You: Mycroft ran his hands down Greg's arms and twined their fingers together. This was perfect and the feel of steam added to the warmth pooling in his chest. "Shower's ready," Mycroft whispered.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled and backed Mycroft into the warm stream of the water. "I can see that," he laughed as he backed him up to the cold wall and kissed him deeply.

You: Mycroft laughed into their kiss, still holding onto Greg's hands. He never wanted this to end but the water would get cold far too soon. Regretfully breaking their kiss, he poured shampoo into Greg's hair, laughing as the other man hissed at the cold feeling.

Stranger: Lestrade sent Mycroft a faked grimace in his direction as Mycroft started to massage the shampoo into his hair. "Don't want to kiss me?" he joked, laughing lightly.

You: "If I keep kissing you, we'll never get out of the shower," Mycroft said, placing a gentle kiss on Greg's nose. "Besides, I want to end up curled up with you under the blankets. We can kiss more there."

Stranger: "Fine," Lestrade huffed with a chuckle, reaching for the soap and pouring a good amount in his hands. He placed his hands on Mycroft's shoulders and started to rub small circles.

You: "That feels good," Mycroft said, turning around so that Greg could reach his back. He closed his eyes and let the water run down the front of him. Finally a tap on his shoulder caused him to turn around.

Stranger: Lestrade rubbed the soap on Mycroft's chest as he turned around, chuckling lightly. "I love you," he whispered, running his hands lower.

You: "I love you, too," Mycroft said, grabbing the soap and massaging Greg's shoulders. He moved quickly but carefully, knowing full well that if they let themselves, they wouldn't be leaving this shower until the water was cold. He stepped back from Greg regretfully and rinsed off quickly.

Stranger: Lestrade followed him and kissed his lips gently. "Sorry, I can't help myself," he chuckled, finishing washing himself on the other side of the shower.

You: "I know, love, but I'm exhausted," Mycroft said, stepping out of the shower and wrapping himself up in a towel. Waiting until Greg stepped out as well, he handed over a towel, hand caressing the skin of Greg's chest as he pulled away.

Stranger: "I know," Lestrade said, nodding his thanks as he wrapped himself in the towel. "I can understand. I just missed you, but I'll kiss you in bed."

You: Mycroft nodded and finished drying off. He walked into the bedroom, waiting for Greg to follow before slipping into bed and patting the space next to him. "You joining me, love?" Mycroft asked with a chuckle.

Stranger: "Of course," Lestrade smirked as he climbed in and wrapped an arm around Mycroft's middle. "I love you baby," he whispered before catching Mycroft's lips.

You: Mycroft let the kiss speak for him, pouring all his love and affection into the gesture. He wrapped his arms around Greg, holding him close, and felt the last knots of tension drift away. Everything was right again; he had Greg and they were together.

Stranger: Lestrade twisted their legs together and scooted closer to Mycroft till their bodies were brushing one another's. He tilted Mycroft's head slightly and deepened the kiss, dipping his tongue into his mouth.

You: Mycroft felt this was the best ending to their day, pulling Greg even closer to him. He broke their kiss and tucked his head under Greg's chin, listening to his heartbeat and tracing patterns on his back again. "Good night, love," Mycroft murmured.

Stranger: "Good night, my love," Lestrade whispered back, closing his eyes and wrapping his arms around his lover's body. As soon as he felt Mycroft's breathing even out into a sleeping rhythm, he let himself slowly drift to sleep.

\-----------------------------------------------------------

You: John sighed as he walked up to the entrance to the Diogenes Club. Having been through this little routine before, he had Mycroft's card already in hand to give to the man at the entrance. After a few minutes, he was shown into Mycroft's office, where he could actually talk again.

Stranger: Mycroft turned as his door was shut and saw John standing in the doorway. "Evening," he said, setting the book down he had been flipping through and standing, moving over to John to shake his hand. "Get here alright?"

You: "I did, yeah," John nodded. "The card you gave me works wonders with the doorman. Do you have the ear pieces and things?" John sat down in the armchair across from Mycroft's, hiding the slight trembling in his left hand by clasping his hands together.

Stranger: "No, I'll send Anthea down to fetch them for us as soon as she comes back. She's currently running a few important errands for me, but should return shortly," Mycroft said, retaking his seat and crossing his legs, placing his hands in his lap.

You: "That's.. good, yeah," John said, squeezing his hands tightly together. He wasn't quite sure when the tremor had started up again but it was constant now. Even his limp had gotten worse and John could only surmise it was because of the two and a half years Sherlock had been gone.

Stranger: "You alright there?" Mycroft asked, nodding towards John's hands with a raised eyebrow.

You: "Sure," John replied, a little too quickly. He winced as he realized that, knowing Mycroft could read him just as well as Sherlock ever could, if not better. "Everything's as good as it's going to get."

Stranger: "You're lying," Mycroft said slowly, resting his eyebrow. "What's bothering you? Beside Moran, that is."

You: John looked away and let his eyes roam Mycroft's office. The shelves of books still looked untouched, even so long after the first time he'd been in here. The chairs were still in the same positions and the tea service was the same as the first time. "It's been a long time," John finally murmured, his voice barely filling the room.

Stranger: "Yes, it has," Mycroft said slowly, keeping his voice low. He watched John's eyes roam the room and followed his gaze to the bookshelf. "How's your book publishing going?"

You: "Honestly, I'm kind of stalled on that front," John said, gaze still wandering the room. "I'm just not sure if I'm quite ready to publish it yet. It would be like... finally admitting there was no way he was coming back since I based Gabriel on him."

Stranger: Mycroft nodded silently for a moment before saying, "Maybe it would make him feel closer to you? I don't know, but the positive feedback you would certainly get make cheer you up."

You: "Maybe," John nodded. He took the cup that Mycroft had placed on the table next to his armchair, the tea still warm. Taking a sip, John couldn't help the smile that crossed his face; even Mycroft knew how he took his tea. "I've talked with a few publishers who are interested."

Stranger: "Oh? That's great, John," Mycroft said, a ghost of a smile crossing his lips. "I'm sure it'll be a big hit, whenever you release it."

You: "I hope so. I worry that I might have made Gabriel a bit too unlikable though," John mused, tapping a finger on the armchair in a nervous twitch. At that moment, a quiet knock sounded on the door and Anthea pushed it open.

Stranger: "I liked him," Mycroft smirked. He watched for John's reaction, hoping he'd catch the slight joke.

You: John smiled lightly, knowing that Mycroft would have recognized Gabriel right away. He looked up as Anthea walked over to them, holding out a small suitcase for Mycroft's inspection.

Stranger: Mycroft took the case, opened it, looked it over quickly before thanking Anthea and closing the case. Anthea nodded and left the room quietly before Mycroft turned to John. "Now, I guess we better get down to business."

You: John nodded, holding out a hand for the earpiece that he was going to wear. "You've selected the agents who are going to be in the pub, I'm assuming?" he asked.

Stranger: "Yes, I have," Mycroft said, taking out an ear piece and handing it over to John. "There will be seven. All dressed to fit in, all wearing an earpiece to hear you and what you say."

You: "Seven?" John asked, taking the little piece of technology and staring at it. "Why seven? I thought you were only going to have two, like last time?"

Stranger: "I figured it would just be safer. Moran knows where the cameras are this time, so, in case I can't see you, I figured I would have a few eyes that could - tell me what's going on," Mycroft said, picking up the other ear piece and turning it in his fingers.

You: "That makes sense," John said, fiddling with the earpiece. He placed it in his ear and shifted it until it felt comfortable. "Can I have the mic, so we can test these?" John asked.

Stranger: Mycroft handed over the mic and set up his own ear piece, adding the mic to his collar on his suit. "Tell me when you're ready to test it."

You: "Now is fine," John replied, standing painfully and grabbing his cane. "Let me just walk outside your office and close the door." John walked slowly to the door and closed it, leaning against the wood and closing his eyes to wait for Mycroft to speak.

Stranger: "Testing, can you hear me John?" Mycroft asked slowly, raising the collar of his suit slightly and speaking into the mic.

You: "Yes, I can," John replied softly, hoping that none of the ever-present servants heard him speaking outside of Mycroft's office. He didn't want to be kicked out. "Can you hear me?"

Stranger: "Yes, I can. You can come back in here now if you wish. Or if you want to try from a farther distance - but I don't see that necessary." Mycroft said, leaning back in his chair.

You: John didn't reply, simply opened the door and limped back in. After sitting carefully back down, he removed the earpiece and mic, handing them back to Mycroft. Taking the tea cup again, he took a sip before saying, "So, what time do you want to meet tomorrow to set all this up? I don't want Moran seeing me in your company."

Stranger: "What time is the meeting again?" Mycroft asked, carefully resetting the pieces in the case. He closed the lid and locked it before taking his own tea cup and leaning back in his seat with a groan. He took a grateful sip from his cup and relaxed as the warm liquid filled him.

You: "Noon, but I'd like to be there a little early if I can," John replied, grimacing as his trembling hand almost caused him to dump tea in his lap. "Moran will be there early; it's a habit ingrained in snipers and other military men. It's not easy to break."

Strangers: "Then why don't we meet at nine? Can get set up, get over there early and there's still an extra hour or so in case something goes wrong?" Mycroft said, frowning down at John's hands, which he realized were shaking pretty badly. "You alright?" he asked with a nod towards the tea cup.

You: "That sounds good," John said automatically, looking down at his hands as well. "I just want this to be over. I want to stop worrying about looking over my shoulder every second, expecting to be shot. I have no idea what Moran could possibly want now and it scares me." John put the tea cup down and clasped his hands together again, trying to hide the tremor.

Stranger: "I hope this is the last time we have to deal with him, for a long while, anyway," Mycroft said more to himself than to John. He looked out the office window for a few minutes, staying quiet.

You: John looked around the room again, the silence a more comfortable one than he was used to with Mycroft. Perhaps being with Greg had softened Mycroft in other ways, John mused to himself. After his hand stopped trembling sufficiently enough to hold the tea cup again, John picked it up and finished it. "Was there anything else you wanted to discuss?" John asked over the rim of the empty cup.

Stranger: "Not off the top of my head, is there anything that is bugging you?" Mycroft asked, refilling his cup and silently asking John if he wanted more as well with a raised eyebrow and a shake of the kettle. "Anything that you worry about? Doesn't have to just be about tomorrow, either."

You: John shook his head wordlessly at the offer of more tea, wondering if he really wanted to ask a favor of Mycroft. Wondering if he really wanted to know the answer to the question currently pinging off the walls of his head. But, thinking back on it, he'd had to wonder. "Can you... can you do me a small favor?" John finally asked hesitantly, mind made up.

Stranger: Mycroft leaned forward in his chair, leaning closer to John. "What is it that you need?" he asked, twisting his fingers together under his desk and joining his hands.

You: John took a deep breath before speaking. This was either going to come out creepily stalkerish or just downright paranoid. Perhaps both. "Dean Michaels, the man I met for coffee. He says he works in New Scotland Yard but, the thing is, all the times I went there with Sherlock on cases, I never saw nor heard of the man. Can you... look into him? Make sure he's not another tie to IOU?"

Stranger: "I can do that, yes," Mycroft said, nodding. He leaned back in his chair again and crossed his legs. He would have to call Sherlock later to find what he told John. Luckily it wouldn't be too much work.

You: "Thank you," John said, nodding gratefully at Mycroft. "I know it's probably nothing, but I figure it's better to be suspicious and be wrong." John stood up again, balancing on his cane and keeping himself from grimacing down at it. There was no point; he needed it and that was that. "I will see you tomorrow, then," he said.

Stranger: Mycroft caught the small flash of anger in John's eyes but decided it best to let it go. "I believe you have the best way of going about it, yes," Mycroft agreed, standing up and moving around to John. "Tomorrow indeed. See you here at nine?"

You: "Yes, nine," John repeated, then walked towards the door slowly. "Goodbye, Mycroft, and have a good day." He limped out through the club, careful to keep his cane from cracking on the floor as he made his way to the door. Once there, it was a simple matter to hail a cab and head back home to wait for tomorrow.

\--------------------------End Chapter 13----------------------------------


	14. Chapter 14

Stranger: Mycroft's eyes fluttered open and he blinked a few times to get the sleep from his vision. His eyes landed on a tired Greg lying next to him and a smile crossed his face. He couldn't help but think how cute he was. Greg stirred and opened one eye, meeting Mycroft's. "Morning babe," he muttered, trying to hide a yawn as he stretched. "What time is it?"

You: Mycroft turned his head to look at the clock and then felt his eyes widening in alarm. "It's 8:30," he whispered, fear in his voice. "I have to go! I told John I'd meet him at my office at 9 and I'm going to be late."

Stranger: Lestrade blinked a few times. "Wait, did you say eight thirty?" he asked slowly, turning his own head to the clock. "Shit," he moaned. "I had a meeting at six this morning… I missed it." He covered his eyes with the palms of his hands and moaned. "I'm so fired…"

You: Mycroft leaned over and pressed a kiss to Greg's eyelids. "No, you're not. You've only been home less than a week," Mycroft soothed him. "They won't fire you. And if they do, I have a job for you as my personal bodyguard." He smiled then, rubbing a hand down Greg's arm before getting out of bed.

Stranger: "Doesn't matter how long I've been home, I'm fired… It was a mandatory meeting. And although the personal bodyguard thing does sound promising, being around you all day and all, I want to keep my job at the Yard. It took me too long to get to where I am as DI and I don't want to lose it now," Lestrade said, laying his hands back at his sides and watching Mycroft get up and go over to the dresser.

You: Mycroft pulled out his clothing, slanting a look over his shoulder at Greg. "If they fire you, I will have a word with the superintendent," Mycroft promised, a dark glint in his eyes. "They won't be firing you, love."

Stranger: Lestrade sighed deeply and looked over at Mycroft. "Thanks love," he whispered, a small smile creeping over his face. He slowly sat up in the bed, his boxers bunching up high on his thighs and his t-shirt pulled up awkwardly. He must have been moving a lot last night. Too tired to try to fix his shirt, he just pulled it off and threw it on the bed with a sigh. He yawned again and dropped his gaze to his feet.

You: Mycroft tore his gaze away from the alluring sight of his lover mostly undressed and tried to dress as quickly as he could. He headed into the bathroom, detouring to give Greg a deep kiss on the way, to rush through his morning routine.

Stranger: Lestrade followed his lover into the bathroom, planning to brush his teeth and use the bathroom. He passed Mycroft by the sink. "You don't mind if I just use the toilet while you're in here do you? I know we haven't done that, but it's not like you haven't seen me naked," Lestrade said, yawning and kissing Mycroft's cheek.

You: Mycroft waved absently, toothbrush buried in his mouth. Rinsing and then using mouthwash, Mycroft took a moment to smile at Greg. This was cozily domestic and he was enjoying having Greg back. "I'll call you after the meeting with Moran," Mycroft said after spitting out the mouthwash.

Stranger: Lestrade nodded tiredly as he opened the toilet lid and relieved himself. He was swaying on his feet, not feeling like he got any sleep at all. He yawned again and flushed the toilet, moving over to wash his hands.

You: Mycroft noticed the swaying and the pale skin and suddenly worried. "Are you all right, love?" he asked, wrapping an arm over Greg's shoulders. "You seem like you don't feel well."

Stranger: "I don't… don't know," Lestrade muttered, leaning into Mycroft's hold. "I don't feel like I slept at all… And my head feels… foggy…" Lestrade grabbed the counter for support and closed his eyes, hoping he didn't fall asleep as he did so.

You: "Why don't you go back to bed and we'll go to see a doctor after I get back?" Mycroft suggested, gently leading Greg back to their bed. "Don't worry about Scotland Yard. I'll clear everything with your superior, love."

Stranger: "But I… I don't want to have to have you do that… I… I'll be fine," Lestrade muttered, his stomach flipping violently, him feeling his face turn slightly green. "I'm fine…" he said, swallowing painfully and realizing how dry his mouth really was.

You: "No, you really aren't, if your incessant swallowing and flushed face have anything to say about it," Mycroft said firmly. He pushed on Greg's shoulder to get him into bed then pulled the blanket over him. "If you start feeling worse, don't hesitate to call me," Mycroft instructed then leaned down to place a soft kiss on Greg's forehead. He had a definite fever and Mycroft could feel a light sheen of sweat.

Stranger: "I-I need to go to work…" Lestrade muttered, closing his eyes and trying to sit up. "It's nothing. I'm just hard waking up is all." Lestrade tried to push the blanket off him and get out of bed. He couldn't gather the energy to sit up and just fell back into the pillow, grimacing. "Help me up," he moaned.

You: "No, I'm not going to do that," Mycroft said firmly, glancing at the clock. It read 8:50 and with a muttered apology to John, Mycroft sat down on the bed. "You are not well at all, Greg, and you aren't getting out of this bed until it's time to go to the doctor." Mycroft pulled out his phone and typed out a quick set of instructions to Anthea, hoping his capable assistant would be enough to keep Greg from going anywhere.

Stranger: "Mycroft…" Lestrade moaned before a wave of nausea hit him. He moaned deeply and tried to keep from throwing up. He swallowed it down with a whimper and ground his teeth as he let Mycroft tuck him back in. "Fine… but can you grab me a… a bowl or something..?"

You: Mycroft nodded and ran to the kitchen to grab an old bucket he kept under the sink. He brought it back to Greg just in time to hold it under him as the other man threw up. "Love, you're not all right," Mycroft repeated softly, worry making his voice hoarse. "I really need to deal with Moran or I'd stay here and make sure you were all right." As he finished speaking, the doorbell rang.

Stranger: Lestrade took the bucket in his hands as Mycroft stood to answer the door. He threw up again and leaned back against the pillows, closing his eyes and hating the taste in his mouth.

You: "You said it was urgent, sir?" Anthea said as she walked calmly into the foyer. She turned to Mycroft, a mildly curious look on her face.

Stranger: "I need you to watch over Lestrade," Lestrade heard Mycroft say, his voice sounding like it was downstairs. "He is not feeling well." Lestrade moaned lightly to himself, hating how the room was spinning, how his body was failing him, how he could go from just feeling overly tired to not even being able to move his arms.

You: "As you wish," Anthea said, nodding. "Is he sick with something contagious or life-threatening? I can have a doctor here in about fifteen minutes."

Stranger: Mycroft sighed heavily. "I do not know, one moment he seemed fine and the next he can barely move. I was going to take him to the doctor later, but if he gets worse, do not hesitate to call in. I'll be home as soon as I'm done with John."

You: "Very well, sir. By the way, the agents who are going to be in the pub are waiting for a final briefing from you before taking their places. I told them to be in place no later than 11:15 am," Anthea said, the typical capable-ness Mycroft hired her for radiating from her.

Stranger: "Perfect, thank you," he nodded, taking his coat from the hanger and slipping it on. "I am leaving, love," he called up the stairs, pausing to see if Greg would answer.

You: "Take... take... care," Lestrade wheezed out, trying to make himself heard. He could only assume Mycroft heard him when he heard the door close and the distinct click of heels on wood flooring. "Hello," Anthea said, coming into the bedroom. "You don't look well at all, do you?"

Stranger: Lestrade only shook his head, not wanting to exert the energy to try to speak again, feeling that if he did, he would surely lose the little bit that was left in him stomach. He moved the bucket closer as heat waved through his head and a headache started pounding on the inside of his skull.

You: Mycroft drove quickly through the morning traffic of London. By the time he made it to the Diogenes Club, it was pushing 8:30. He saw John waiting impatiently outside of the door to his office, along with the seven agents he had arranged to be in the pub. "Sorry I'm late," Mycroft said smoothly, unlocking the door. "Please come in, each of you."

Stranger: "What took you? Everything alright?" John asked as the other men moved into the room. He stood off to the side next to Mycroft.

You: "Greg is sick," Mycroft said quietly enough that only John could hear. "I was delayed taking care of him and making sure Anthea was there before I left." Mycroft pasted his office mask on, prepared to show the other agents that there was absolutely nothing wrong. "Now, you all understand that you are to observe and report only. The only reason I want any of you moving in on Moran is if he threatens John or other patrons in the pub," Mycroft said, fixing each of the agents with a stern look.

Stranger: John saw each man give a serious nod of understanding and felt a little better about it all. He knew he was well protected and was completely safe for the day ahead. He let a small smile cross his lips as thanks as Mycroft looked at him.

You: "That should be everything, then, gentlemen," Mycroft said, dismissing the agents. "Please make sure you are in place around the pub. Thank you." He waited until the last man had filed out before nodding at John to take a seat. He pulled out the case with the earpieces and mics, handing over a pair to John.

Stranger: "Thanks for all this, Mycroft," John said as he set himself up with the ear piece. He sat down as he worked on getting the mic on. "So what happened to Greg? Is everything alright? Nothing too bad?"

You: "Not a problem at all, John," Mycroft said, smiling at him. "And I believe Greg might be coming down with the flu. I'm going to have a doctor look in on him when we're done. Anthea is there to make sure he doesn't get any worse."

Stranger: "At least he has someone there to look over him," John said slowly. "I do suggest getting him to a doctor as fast as you can, to make sure it is the flu."

You: Mycroft nodded again, fitting the mic and earpiece on. He fiddled with them until they were comfortable, then sighed. "He's only been home a few days," Mycroft said softly. "Could this be something he picked up at the hospital?"

Stranger: "It's possible," John said slowly. "Or it could just be something going around. I really don't know. I would have to hear what's going on with him and see him."

You: "He was very pale and shaky this morning," Mycroft said, looking away from John in an effort to hide the worry in his eyes. "He was also vomiting. Couldn't get up the strength to move after he got out of bed. I helped him back to bed and he could barely sit up."

Stranger: "Is very possible that it is the flu," John said slowly, nodding. "But again, it could be many things. Taking him to a doctor is best, and as soon as you can."

You: "That's my plan, thank you, John," Mycroft said, nodding with a worried look on his face. He pulled out his phone and checked for texts but there were none. So no change in Greg's condition so far. "Good luck with your meeting, by the way. If all goes well, this is the last time you will have to see Moran face to face." Suddenly, Mycroft was reminded of Sherlock and how his younger brother would want to know what was happening.

Stranger: John watched Mycroft start to type on his phone. "What do you think he even thinks he wants?" John asked as Mycroft sent the message and set his phone on the desk. "Why does he need me again? What makes you think he won't need me again?"

You: Mycroft fiddled with his phone before answering, making sure John would not be able to see the display when Sherlock replied. "I'm hoping we can convince him you are basically a dead end," Mycroft finally said. "And that you are not going to be joining IOU, whatever incentive he has."

Stranger: "And how do we do that?" John asked, leaning back in his chair and playing with the head of his cane, which leaned up against his chair.

You: Mycroft thought for a few moments, wondering how to explain the fact that Moran would soon be dead if he had anything to do with it. Without saying that, of course. "Tell him that you are negotiating with a publishing firm to publish the book you've written," Mycroft said, a triumphant smile crossing his face. "You'll be too busy to do anything with another organization."

Stranger: "That may work, do you think he'll take it?" John asked, nodding slightly. He saw the smile cross Mycroft's face and raised an eyebrow at it.

You: "Yes, I believe it will," Mycroft replied, not bothering to hide the smile that was edging into predatory. If John could knock Moran off balance, he would be even easier prey for him and Sherlock. A soft beeping interrupted him and Mycroft could see Sherlock's alias on the caller ID. "John, I have some business to take care off before the meeting," Mycroft said, picking up his phone. "Can we continue this conversation later?"

Stranger: "Of course, should I go somewhere er...?" John asked, starting to stand but having no idea where he should go if anywhere. He didn't know the rest of the Club too well besides the path to get to Mycroft's office. Otherwise, the rest of the building was unknown to him.

You: "Have you eaten breakfast yet?" Mycroft asked. "There's a small diner down the street from here if you're hungry."

Stranger: "No, I haven't," John said, standing. "Would you like to join me once you finish your call?" John grabbed his cane, ignoring the ping of disgust towards it. He kept his eyes locked on Mycroft.

You: "If I can, yes," Mycroft replied as his phone beeped again. "This seems to be a rather urgent call, though, so I won't promise anything." Mycroft sighed inwardly at John's use of his cane. He knew all about how Sherlock cured the soldier when they first met. It was probably the biggest sign that John was still taking Sherlock's death hard.

Stranger: "Well, we have two hours yet, so I'll plan to see you down there," John said with a nod, moving towards the door. "My treat, of course." with that he closed the door behind him so Mycroft couldn't argue. He knew Mycroft was very busy, and he was taking time out of his day to help John, the least John could do was buy him breakfast and a coffee, right?

You: Mycroft chuckled quietly at the closed door; John was still as unwilling to put up with his evasions as ever. He picked up the phone to read the text messages from Sherlock, fully prepared to have an argument with his brother about not informing him of the meeting earlier.

Stranger: John made his way to the little cafe on the corner. It smelled strongly of coffee and bacon, which to John, was always a good sign. He sat down at a two person table after ordering and paying for his food, a cup of strong coffee in his hand, as he waited for Mycroft to come join him.  
You: Mycroft read the text, a belligerent-sounding one demanding more information and why exactly he had kept the meeting from him. Mycroft shook his head at that, not at all surprised he'd guessed Sherlock's response correctly. He thought for a moment about how to reply then typed quickly. I didn't tell you before now because I only learned of it a few days ago. I've been busy with Greg. And all I have is that Moran wants to talk to John again. You're welcome to come watch as you did last time - MH

Stranger: Where shall I meet you this time? And you couldn't take five minutes away from your little boyfriend in order to text your own brother? Pathetic. -SH

You: I am not rising to your sarcasm, Sherlock. You can meet me on the same corner as last time. I will be in a black car with tinted windows. - MH

Stranger: Time? -SH

You: The meeting is set for noon. John wants to be inside by no later than 11:30, I believe so you can meet me at 11:45. - MH

Stranger: Alright, I shall see you then. -SH

You: Mycroft exhaled softly and put his phone away after carefully deleting the texts to and from Sherlock. His phone was almost never out of his control, but there was no sense in being reckless. Checking the time, for the conversation had taken a remarkably short time, Mycroft decided to join John for breakfast. He hadn't gotten a chance to eat this morning either.

Stranger: John looked up as he saw Mycroft enter the cafe. He waved to him after setting down his fork. "Hey," John smiled after he swallowed and wiped his mouth with his napkin. He motioned to the chair across from him for Mycroft to sit.

You: Mycroft nodded but ordered quickly before he sat down. "How are you, really, John?" Mycroft asked, studying John with his piercing eyes.

Stranger: "Honestly? Nervous," John admitted, chuckling nervously. "But I feel a little better with knowing that you'll be there to coax me through it."

You: "You'll be fine, John," Mycroft said, pausing while his food was set down on the table. "You are perfectly capable of doing this on your own. It may seem overwhelming because of what you know about Moran now."

Stranger: "It's still nice to have you to help," John said, a small smile playing his lips. "I can't thank you enough, Mycroft. Not just for this, but for all the helping with Sherlock's death."

You: Mycroft nodded, not trusting his ability to keep the secret. He could see how much John was suffering and just one sentence could save him. And then condemn him right afterwards.

Stranger: "Something wrong?" John asked as he saw Mycroft's face, his eyes a very strange mix of emotion that John wouldn't have been able to see if he hadn't dealt with the Holmes brothers for so long.

You: "Not really, no," Mycroft said, forcing a small smile onto his face. Now was not the time for John to find out about Sherlock. "I'm just a little worried for Greg. Though, I still have no texts from Anthea, so I can only assume he is still doing all right."

Stranger: "I feel like you're lying to me, Mycroft," John said slowly, sipping his coffee. "But if you don't want to tell me, I won't force you."

You: "Not exactly lying, no," Mycroft hedged. "There are things that I can't tell you, though. For now, at least."

Stranger:"For now?" John questioned, raising an eyebrow. "Can you at least explain?"

You: Mycroft shook his head sadly, covering for a moment by taking a bite of his breakfast. "I can tell you that you will know soon," Mycroft said, knowing the vagueness would most likely annoy John. "But that's all I can say for now."

Stranger:"I hate when you do that," John said, taking another sip of drink of his coffee. "You know that, right? That's why you do it."

You: "Most cases, yes," Mycroft agreed, a sardonic smile crossing his face. "But not in this case. Just take my word for it, John. When you can know, you will. I promise."

Stranger: "Is it a bad thing?" John asked slowly, trying to get as much from Mycroft as he could.

You: "John, I'm sorry, I can't tell you anymore," Mycroft said sorrowfully, looking back down to his breakfast. He ate a few bites, hoping that John would let the conversation go.

Stranger: "You can't even tell me if it's bad?" John asked, leaning forward on the table. "You have to at least be able to tell me that..."

You: Mycroft debated with himself for several seconds, trying to decide how much to tell John. The ex-soldier was rather good at piecing together things from the smallest clues and he didn't want to put either John or Sherlock in danger. "I can tell you that you will like it," Mycroft finally said. "And that really is all I can say."

Stranger: "Alright," John said, knowing that is really all he could manage to get out of Mycroft for now. "Can you tell me some things about Sherlock? I just want to hear about him more..." John said, casting his eyes down into his coffee, the urge just to have something to make him feel closer to his dead friend growing.

You: "I can do that," Mycroft said, swallowing a sip of tea. "What would you like to know? I'm sure you can guess that Sherlock had.... rather varied adventures when he was younger."

Stranger: "Yeah, I could guess that," John chuckled. "Can you tell me a little bit about that?"

You: "Well, you know he wanted to be a pirate," Mycroft said. "Several Halloweens in a row, he dressed as Blackbeard the Pirate and would only talk like a pirate for the week leading up to the holiday."

Stranger: "He sounds like he... well... nevermind," John smiled sadly, looking down at his drink.

You: "What?" Mycroft asked curiously, continuing to eat. "What did he sound like?"

Stranger: "Just... like a cute kid..." John muttered, blushing slightly at the vision of a small Sherlock running around with a hook as a hand.

You: Mycroft let the smile grow wider on his face, remembering how cute Sherlock actually was as a pirate. "He also used to pretend his experiments were treasure," Mycroft added on.

Stranger: "Are you kidding me?" John laughed lightly. "Do you happen to have any... pictures?"

You: "Mummy might," Mycroft replied, chuckling. "I'll have to ask her next time I talk to her." He finished his breakfast, rather surprised that the small diner had decent food. "What else would you like to know?"

Stranger: "Can you just tell me a few stories?" John asked slowly.

You: Mycroft thought for a few moments, turning the tea cup around and around on the saucer. "After I went to university, Mummy would call me weekly. Apparently, Sherlock found a new game: he would take pieces of her jewelry or cutlery, pretty much anything shiny, and hide them," Mycroft said. "And then he would create elaborate clues and leave them around the house for Mummy to find."

Stranger: "Really? I feel like he still did that before he..." John trailed off, his face dropping. "You know..."

You: "Go on, John," Mycroft coaxed, taking a sip of his tea. "Share your own stories. It can only help."

Stranger: "Like there are any you don't already know," John chuckled drying.

You: "I don't know everything that went on in the flat," Mycroft replied dryly. "I did take the listening devices out after the first six months. Though, I have to admit, I did leave a few cameras."

Stranger: "Well, Sherlock used to always keep spare bodies parts in where the food should go. I'm sure you've seen me jump a few times when I opened the fridge door," John chuckled dryly. "Or when he got bored, he would shoot at the wall, where he had spray painted a smiley face. Always hit right on the lines... Really great shot... Or, in the mornings... He would play his violin... I used to get... So mad at him for it... and now... I'd give anything to wake up to it..." John's eyes started to water and he bit down on his bottom lip as he tried to hold back the tears.

You: "I'm sorry, John," Mycroft said again as John struggled to contain his tears. He let silence reign for John to get control of himself, impressed all over again that the man before him was able to stand living with his brother. Checking his watch, Mycroft saw it was almost time for John to head to the pub. "We should go," he said softly.

Stranger: John collected himself as much as he could before, with a deep breath, he looked back up at Mycroft and nodded. "R-Right..." he muttered, reaching for his cane.

You: Mycroft stood, keeping an eye on John in case he wavered on his feet. It would be very satisfying to see that limp disappear. He led the way out to the car and waited while John slid into the passenger side. "Try to keep the conversation easy," Mycroft said after he had gotten into the car. "Don't become argumentative if you can help it."

Stranger: "I'll save that for you later," John tried to joke, but it was lost in the deadpan tone he told it in. He watched out the window as Mycroft drove through the winding roads.

You: Mycroft kept silent, knowing there was almost nothing he could say to make John feel better. He stopped on the same corner that he had last time, turning the car off.

Stranger: John looked at Mycroft for a moment before silently climbing out. "Talk to you in a few," he said shortly before turning and started down the street towards the bar.

You: John was gone before Mycroft could reply, so he just sat back in his seat and waited for Sherlock. He couldn't wait until this was over and John was safe again.

Stranger: Sherlock watched John start towards the bar before stepping out of the alley way near the parked car. Slowly, he got in and sat in the back, knowing Mycroft would join him soon. "Evening, brother," he said as he closed the door behind him. "Got a spare ear piece?"

You: Mycroft handed over the extra earpiece, nodding at Sherlock's hair. "The black is growing out again," he observed. "You're going to want to dye it again."

Stranger: "I'll do that later tonight," he said, placing the ear piece in his ear and running his hand through his locks. "Are we going to have video this time around?"

You: "No, we aren't," Mycroft said, shaking his head. "I wasn't able to add a camera without changing the lines of the room. I'm sure Moran would have noticed. By the way, what are we going to do about him? He's obviously here in London."

Stranger: "I don't know. He's so close to John we have to be careful," Sherlock said, adjusting the earpiece. He sat farther back in the seat and leaned forward onto his knees. "But we'll figure something out later on. For now, let's just focus on John and Moran. He won't be able to hear me, right?"

You: "As long as you don't talk while I am," Mycroft warned, tapping the mic affixed to his collar. "Just like last time. Though, I have more agents inside the pub. We'll be able to have several points of view on Moran once this meeting is over."

Stranger: "Very well," Sherlock nodded. "Are you joining me back here or not." Sherlock's tone made it more of a statement than a question, sounding completely impatient.

You: Mycroft shrugged then got out of the car. He walked to the back and slid in, making sure that he moved quickly. As he settled himself, he saw Moran walking up the sidewalk. "Here we go," Mycroft muttered, nodding at the sniper.

Stranger: Sherlock watched through the darkened window as Moran passed the car and went into the bar. He pressed the earpiece harder into his ear and listened as John greeted Moran. He couldn't help but bother his bottom lip as he scanned the outside of the bar.

You: "Hello, sir," John said, standing as Moran stepped up to the booth he'd taken near the back. "What did you want to talk about?"

Stranger: "Afternoon, John," Moran said, taking John's hand and shaking it before he sat down. "I wanted to talk about our last meeting. I had a few questions."

You: John sat down carefully, trying to hide the limp that plagued him. The last thing he wanted to show Moran was any sort of weakness. Waving a hand, John said, "All right, go ahead. What did you want to know?"

Stranger: "Can you tell me more about those two men?" Moran said as he waved for two beers from the bartender, who nodded. "I know we already went over it, but I want to hear it again."

You: John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He idly noted that he should probably go get it cut; it was getting shaggier than he normally liked. "I don't know what else I can tell you," John hedged, shrugging. "All my friend was willing to share was their names and that they sometimes recruited discharged soldiers. I didn't ask for what. He didn't look all that willing to share."

Stranger: "Can you just go over their descriptions and names and all again? Hearing it all again would really help," Moran said, the glasses being placed down in front of him. He picked it up and took a grateful sip.

You: "Well, if I remember correctly, you said one of them was tall with curly blond hair and the other was just as tall with brown hair, right?" John asked, narrowing his eyes as he thought. "I believe my friend said that Thomas O'Malley was the brunette and that Adrian Johnson was the blond."

Stranger: "Yeah, so John, tell me something will you?" Moran said as he stared into his drink, his face emotionless.

You: "What's that?" John asked, pulling his glass towards him but not drinking.

Stranger: "Why was it that when I went to look them up, nothing came up for either of them?" Moran growled, setting his glass down and meeting John's eyes. "Government databases nor public."

You: "I don't know," John said, shrugging and fighting the urge to look away. There was nothing kind in Moran's eyes and every bit the death he dealt out as a sniper.

Stranger: "You lied to me, John," Moran said, lowering his voice so it was just a deep whisper. "And you know what happens now, right?"

You: "What makes you think I lied?" John asked, rather proud that his voice was level and calm. "I told you exactly what my friend told me."

Stranger: "I want to meet this friend of yours," Moran said, his eyes narrowing. "Get him down here."

You: John felt his mouth dropping open, his mind freezing completely. He didn't know anyone other than Mycroft in the government and he very well couldn't have him walk in. "I don't think I can right now," John temporized, hoping Mycroft was listening and figuring something out. "I'm not even sure he's in the country right now."

Stranger: "Than you can call him," Moran growled. "Either way, I want to speak to him. That isn't a problem, is it?" he asked testingly. He raised an eyebrow at John.

You: "Give me a few minutes," John sighed, sliding out of the booth and pulling out his phone. "I can't guarantee he'll answer, though." Turning his back on Moran was one of the hardest things he'd done but John did and walked outside to make the call to Mycroft.

Stranger: "John?" Mycroft asked into the mic as he watched John exit the bar. He felt Sherlock stir next to him and saw his brother staring sadly at John's small form in the distance.

You: "We have a problem," John said, pretending to talk into his phone. "Moran doesn't believe me. He wants to talk to the friend that told me about your two "agents". What do you want me to do?"

Stranger: "Well, does he have to see that friend in person or not?" Mycroft asked slowly, his mind working a mile a minute trying to piece together a plan.

You: "He would probably prefer that," John said dryly. "But I think he might settle for talking over the phone."

Stranger: "I don't know if he would recognize my voice from back in the alley. I don't want to take the chance if we can avoid it," Mycroft said slowly. "There has to be another way..."

You: "What about the agent who was with you?" John asked suddenly. "He's probably out of the hospital by now. Can he talk to Moran?"

Stranger: "He could recognize his face," Mycroft shook his head and looked at Sherlock, who had looked at Mycroft.

You: "What about over the phone?" John persisted. "Did the agent actually say anything to Moran?"

Stranger: "I can't remember," Mycroft admitted. He sighed heavily over the mic and thought for a moment. "If you want to take that chance..."

You: John shrugged, knowing Mycroft could probably see it from the car he was sitting in. "I don't see that we have much choice. Unless you can magic up another agent to pretend to be my friend," John sighed.

Stranger: "I could always pull one of the agents out of the bar to come to the alley and talk over the phone to Moran," Mycroft mused.

You: John thought about that then nodded. "That may work," he said. "They haven't spoken yet and I doubt Moran knows who they are."

Stranger: "Alright, give me a few moments then," Mycroft said. "Lance, do you mind stepping out of the pub and meeting me in the alleyway just a block down?"

You: John put away his phone and walked back into the pub. As he did so, one of the other agents stepped casually away from the bar and walked outside. John headed back to the booth and nodded at Moran. "He'll be calling back in about five minutes," John said, toying with his glass again. "He had to get somewhere where he could talk."

Stranger: "Fine," Moran said, leaning back in his seat and rolling his eyes slightly. "But sooner or later, I want to meet him face to face."

You: John shrugged again, not willing to answer that comment. He didn't know if having Moran meeting someone pretending to explain everything would be all that good. After a few minutes, his phone rang.

Stranger: Mycroft called John's phone, making sure it was ringing, before handing it over to Lance. "Make sure you say just what we went over, nothing more," Mycroft warned quietly. "I'll still be talking to you in the earpiece if you need help."

You: Lance nodded even though he was fairly sure Mycroft couldn't see him. "Hello," he said smoothly into the phone after it was picked up. "John?"

Stranger: "Yes, hello. My friend, Moran, wanted to talk to you about a couple of people you work with," John said back, giving Moran a small nod.

You: "Yeah, sure, pass the phone on over," Lance replied, getting into his role. It was easy; this was something he'd been trained for all those years ago.

Stranger: John handed the phone over to Moran and watched as he rose the phone to his ear, eyeing John. "Hello?" he asked slowly.

You: "Hello, name's Lance," Lance said cheerfully. "You John's friend? He said you wanted to talk to me."

Stranger: "Yes, that's me. Can you tell me a little about those two men you work with that you told John about?" Moran asked, calming talking into the phone.

You: "Sure, Adrian and Thomas, right?" Lance said, taking a few moments to put his thoughts in order. "They work with me sometimes and we keep an eye on discharged soldiers who have certain skills we might find... useful. Let me tell you, keeping an eye on you was a job and a half."

Stranger: "Yes, I tried," Moran said, letting a small smile play his lips before it slipped back into the straight face he held. "Can you tell me more about them?"

You: "That depends on what you want to know, of course," Lance said, wondering how much he could make up on the spot. "I can't tell you anything they're doing right now. National importance, you know."

Stranger: "Can you tell me why I couldn't find them in any databases?" he asked slowly, sipping from his drink.

You: "I would think that would be obvious. They use codenames," Lance said, shrugging automatically. "All agents in that division do. We want to keep them safe so they don't have to worry about their families being targeted."

Stranger: "And why were they chasing after me instead of just calling my cell phone, which, by the way, is listed under my name," Moran growled.

You: "They weren't chasing, they were observing," Lance corrected. "We don't approach a person we want to recruit unless we are completely sure we want to recruit them. They were observing to see if you would be a good fit."

Stranger: "They were running after me, and that's why I shot one of them," Moran said, his voice raising a little. "Explain that to me."

You: "They were trying not to lose you. They had to keep an eye on you and you were making it extremely difficult," Lance said, a hint of reproach in his voice. "And Adrian is fine, since you didn't ask."

Stranger: "No offence to any of your little working bees, but I really don't care if they are fine or not," Moran growled, crossing one arm over his chest. "Next time, just call me."

You: Lance sighed, knowing the sound was clearly audible over the phone. "You haven't really listened to a word, have you?" he asked, exasperation clear in his voice. "The point of their mission was to watch you and not contact you. But I shall keep that in mind in case we ever decide to recruit you."

Stranger: "Is that all you can tell me?" Moran asked, rolling his eyes to the ceiling. He crossed his legs under the table and sighed.

You: "Surely you understand a need for secrecy?" Lance asked. "I've given you all the pertinent details. What more could you need that wouldn't put my agents or their families at risk?"

Stranger: "I'm sure there's more you could tell me," Moran said, not letting up. "I'm sure you haven't told me everything you could."

You: "What more do you want to know?" Lance replied, rolling his eyes. "They aren't following you anymore, if that's what you're hinting at."

Stranger: "I know they are. They wouldn't just give up," Moran said, himself getting very impatient. "I want to talk to them."

You: "After you shot Adrian, you were deemed unsuitable for recruitment," Lance replied, annoyance in his voice. "They haven't followed you since then. Tell me, have you actually seen anyone following you?"

Stranger: "No, but I know when people are watching me," Moran snapped. "And what do you mean unsuitable?"

You: "I mean that you have a short temper and are quick to violence," Lance replied, calming his voice again. The last thing he needed was Moran taking his anger out on John and Mycroft firing him for screwing this up. "And if anyone's watching you, it's not one of my people."

Stranger: "Fine," Moran snapped. "You were useless." He hung up the phone and handed it back to John, huffing.

You: Lance closed the phone and chuckled to himself at the anger in Moran's voice. He could only guess that the man hadn't heard what he wanted to hear. "It's done," Lance murmured to Mycroft through the mic. "What do you want me to do now?"

Stranger: "Go take a place across the street from the bar in that cafe. Get a window seat and watch from there," Mycroft said back into the mic. "We still want you nearby just in case."

You: "Understood," Lance replied, walking out of the alley. He decided to chance his next comment, knowing that Mycroft did appreciate insights from his operatives. "This Moran... he's dangerous," Lance said hesitantly. "And he's paranoid. That's never a good combination."

Stranger: "I know," Mycroft said slowly. "He's been this way for a while." Mycroft shook his head slowly as he looked at Sherlock. "Go to the cafe."

You: "Yes, sir," Lance said and made his way to the cafe. He ordered a coffee and sat down at a window seat, making sure he could see the pub.

Stranger: "That was useless," Moran groaned out, crossing his arms over his chest. "Waste of time."

You: "Well, sorry," John snapped, shrugging and taking back his phone. "You got to talk to him. Is there anything else you wanted, Colonel?"

Stranger: Moran just growled before waving for another beer. "Nothing, I think I'm good," he said after he downed half the beer in one swig.

You: John pushed his glass away, tucking his phone back into his pocket. "Well, I have some work I need to do," John said, standing up again. "Goodbye, Colonel."

Stranger: Moran just watched John leave before finishing off his beer. He knew there was more. He knew they both knew more. It was just a matter of getting John to tell him.

You: John headed out to the car Mycroft was sitting in, not caring if Moran saw him get in or not. John assumed that as long as he didn't see Mycroft, everything should be fine.Then, when he slid in and looked in the backseat, John felt his world implode. There sat Sherlock, staring back at him with a bit of a dumbfounded expression on his face. "Sh... Sherlock?" John stammered, torquing his body around in his seat.

Stranger: "Um... who?" Sherlock said smoothly, not knowing what to really say. "John, I'm Dean, remember?" Sherlock kept his eye contact and gave him his best confused look.

You: "What...? Oh my god, sorry," John said, his words rushed in his embarrassment. "You just... I know I've said this before but you look so much like him. And the black growing out in your hair makes you look more like him. I'm sorry."

Stranger: "Relax, John, it's fine," Sherlock said, putting on a smile. He raised his hands and waved them in front of his face slightly waving it off. "I know I look like him to you. Easy mistake. Are we done here, Mycroft?"

You:"We are, Dean, thank you," Mycroft said, nodding at his brother. He couldn't believe he hadn't expected this but pulling out one of his agents and making up the story for Moran had rattled him a little bit. "Thank you."

Stranger: Sherlock unhooked the earpiece and handed it back to Mycroft. He turned to John and sent him a small smile. "I ought to get going," he said to both of them, moving to open the car door.

You: "Wait, what are you doing here?" John asked suddenly, his eyes narrowed in suspicion. "I thought you were just someone who worked at New Scotland Yard."

Stranger: "Oh, yeah, I am. But see, I'm a friend of Lestrade at work, and Mycroft here contacted me to help out," Sherlock lied quickly and smoothly. "Of course I would say yes."

You: "But why? What could you possibly do here?" John persisted, a bad feeling centering in his gut.

Stranger: "Mycroft needed another man to help cover the bar. He came to me," Sherlock shrugged.

You: "I don't understand why he came to you, though," John replied, shaking his head. "I know I probably sound paranoid but how are you connected with this? He could have just gotten another agent."

Stranger: "Ask Mycroft here," Sherlock said, nodding to his brother as he got into the driver's seat. "He called me and I didn't ask questions." Sherlock let out a small laugh.

You: John took his eyes off who he believed to be Dean and Sherlock took that chance to get out of the car. Mycroft kept his eyes on the road as he started the car, waiting until Sherlock had turned the corner before pulling away from the curb. "So, explain," John said tersely, glaring at Mycroft.

Stranger: "Well, I can trust him, it just seemed logical," Mycroft shrugged, driving down the road, hoping that's all John would need, knowing it wouldn't be.

You: "You trust him," John repeated flatly. "Why do you trust him? And did you know he was the same man I asked you to look into?"

Stranger: "I didn't," Mycroft lied. "I trusted him because Greg trusts him, and I trust no one more than Greg."

You: "Funny that Greg never mentioned him," John said conversationally, working to keep his anger contained. "That's part of why I asked you to look into him. What are you not telling me here, Mycroft?"

Stranger: Mycroft silently sighed to himself before getting his face to go straight and emotionless. "I am telling you everything, John," he said, glancing at John and putting his eyes back to the road.

You: John sighed and his shoulders slumped, exhaustion warring with the anger bubbling in his chest. "I may not be as smart as you, Mycroft Holmes, but I've learned to tell when you are lying," John said quietly. "Give me one good reason why I should let this go and not hound you until you tell me."

Stranger: "Because you should trust me," Mycroft said, his voice solid. "I wanted him here to help me because I trusted he could do the job the best, and I was right."

You: John studied Mycroft carefully and couldn't see a lie this time. Mycroft, at least, believed what he was saying. "And what job was that?" John finally asked.

Stranger: "Getting out of whatever situation Moran may throw us in. He came up with the agent coming out to take the phone call, he's smart enough that I knew he would help," Mycroft said, lying slightly, doing his best to convince himself it was the truth as well.

You: John had to admit that having him there hadn't hurt. Especially if Dean really was the one who came up with the plan to distract Moran. But it was just too big of a coincidence that he was here after John had asked Mycroft to look into him. "So I'm guessing you've researched him a bit then?" he asked.

Stranger: "Not in depth," Mycroft said slowly. "If you want to find out more, Greg would be the best one to talk to, not me."

You: "I may do that when he's feeling better," John replied, suddenly feeling guilty for keeping Mycroft away from the DI when he was sick. "If you can just drop me off at Baker Street, I'll let you get back to him."

Stranger: "Thank you, John," Mycroft nodded, knowing John understood. He drove to Baker Street and parked outside of John's flat. "If I could just get the earpiece and mic back?"

You: "Yeah, right, sorry," John replied, hurriedly removing the earpiece and taking the mic off his collar. "Lot on my mind, I guess. Hope Greg feels better." He handed the devices over and got out of the car.

Stranger: "Me too," Mycroft muttered as he took the mic and earpiece. He placed them back in the case, closed the lid, and started back home.

You: Lestrade was still feeling miserable though he hadn't thrown up anymore. Anthea was a silent presence in the room and that comforted him. He didn't think he could keep up any sort of conversation. When he heard the door open, Lestrade tried to lever himself up to a sitting position, calling out, "My... Mycroft?"

Stranger: Mycroft hurriedly hung up his coat by the front door and rushed upstairs and into Greg's room. He nodded at Anthea who had stood. "He slept most of the time, hasn't vomited in a while. No problems though," Anthea whispered in his ear before she said goodbye to Greg and left the room. Mycroft went over to Greg's bed and sat down on the edge, taking his hand gently. "How you feeling, love?"

You: "Still miserable," Lestrade coughed, squeezing on Mycroft's hand. "How... how did the... meeting go?" He rubbed at his throat, trying to ease the rasp when he talked.

Stranger: Mycroft brushed a strand of hair out of Greg's eyes and frowned down at him sadly. He took a tissue from the side table and brushed off his hand before brushing off where Greg had squeezed on himself as well. "The meeting went fine. John saw Sherlock, luckily he played it off as Dean," Mycroft said softly, keeping his voice quiet as to not bother Greg too much. "Otherwise, everything went mostly smoothly."

You: "Good," Lestrade replied, his eyes closing against his will. A cough burbled up out of his chest and Lestrade could feel exhaustion taking him over again. "Think I'm going... to fall... asleep, love," he managed to say before he fell into a light doze again.

Stranger: "Alright, babe," Mycroft whispered, standing. "I'm going to go call in for an appointment for the doctor in about an hour or so. If you're still awake, are you hungry?"

You: The movement woke him up again and Lestrade struggled to answer. "Not hungry, but... will you come back?" he coughed again, his throat feeling like it was on fire.

Stranger: "Let me call the doctor and get you some tea, you need it right now," Mycroft said, running his hand softly through Greg's hair. "I'll be back in about fifteen minutes, then I want you to drink it, okay?"

You: "Okay," Lestrade said, his eyes closing again. He heard a quiet muttering from the rest of the house and assumed it was Mycroft calling the doctor. Another coughing fit shook him and he was still coughing when Mycroft came back in.

Stranger: Mycroft retook his seat on the side of the bed next to Greg and pressed the back of his hand on his lover's forehead. It was heating up and Mycroft frowned. He set the cup of tea on the side table and sat back. "Love, you need to sit up to drink your tea. Do you need help?" Mycroft said quietly, each word caressed with concern.

You: "Yeah, not enough strength right now," Lestrade murmured. He sat up with Mycroft's help and sipped at the tea, smiling at the honey that suffused the tea. "Thank you, love. What did the doctor say?" He was able to talk easier now, the honey soothing his throat.

Stranger: "He said we can come in at two-thirty. So in about forty-five minutes we have to leave," Mycroft said, placing his hand on Greg's knee. "I hope we can get you feeling better. I hate seeing you so miserable, love."

You: "I know," Lestrade replied, taking more sips of the tea. "I'll be fine soon. I think I'm going to nap until we need to leave." He handed the cup back to Mycroft, his throat feeling better after the tea. "Stay with me?"

Stranger: "Of course baby," Mycroft said as he took the cup and set it down on the table. He stood and walked around to the other side of the bed. He sat down next to Greg and helped him lay down before laying down next to him. He wrapped one arm around Greg's middle and held him close. "I'll be right here when you wake up, and I'll be waking you up in forty minutes."

You: Lestrade curled into Mycroft's side, his warmth permeating the chill that had been wrapped around him since he woke up this morning. Finally relaxing, he fell into a deeper sleep.

Stranger: Mycroft kissed Greg's temple and let his body relax next to Greg, playing with his hair gently as his lover slept. Sick or not, Greg was beautiful when he was asleep, and Mycroft loved watching him.

You: All too soon, Lestrade felt himself shaken awake. He blinked blearily, focusing on Mycroft's face. "Time to get up?" he asked, his voice rough with sleep.

Stranger: "Afraid so, love," Mycroft said with a soft, sad smile. Mycroft sat up and looked at Greg, who was still in his boxers and no shirt. "Do you have any strength to get up and dress, or do I need to help you, baby?"

You: "I think I can do it mostly on my own," Lestrade replied, forcing his legs over the side of the bed. "If you could just make sure I don't fall over." He carefully pushed himself to his feet and headed over to the dresser. Once there, balancing against the dresser, Lestrade pulled out some clothes.

Stranger: Mycroft stood next to Greg as he got to the dresser. He stayed close to Greg as he dressed, making sure to keep Greg upright. "I worry about you going down the stairs, baby," Mycroft said softly as Greg dressed.

You: "I'll be ok, love," Lestrade replied, fumbling a bit at the buttons on his shirt. "There's a railing and you can make sure I don't fall." He wavered a bit on his feet then, throwing out a hand to hang onto Mycroft's arm. "Guess I'm not as well as I'd hoped," he said ruefully.

Stranger: "I'd feel better if you let me carry you down to the car, or at least down the stairs," Mycroft said, grabbing onto Greg and walking him over to the bed to sit down. "I just don't want you to hurt yourself."

You: Lestrade shook his head, an image of both of them falling down the stairs flashing through his mind. "You don't need to carry me," he said, smothering another cough. "I'll walk down and it'll be ok."

Stranger: Mycroft sighed lightly and brushed another strand of hair out of his eyes. "If that makes you happy," Mycroft muttered. "I just don't want something to happen to you." He leaned up and pecked Greg on the cheek.

You: "I know, love, and we'll be fine," Lestrade replied, turning his head and pressing his lips against Mycroft's lightly. "We should get going." He pushed himself to his feet again, steadying himself with a hand on Mycroft's shoulder.

Stranger: "At least hold onto my arm the whole way," Mycroft said as he stood and held out his arm for Greg. "It would just make me feel better a little."

You: "I can do that," Lestrade said, smiling. He looped an arm around Mycroft's and walked carefully towards the door. They made it downstairs a step at a time, moving carefully so Lestrade didn't fall. "See?" he asked when they got to the bottom step. "We're fine."

Stranger: "Okay, I see, I see," Mycroft chuckled lightly. "But when we get home, I'm pulling out the bed from the couch and we're sleeping there till you get your strength back." Mycroft opened the door for them and then closed it again when they got outside, locking it quickly and going to his car with his driver waiting for them.

You: "Sounds comfy," Lestrade said, smiling again as he slid into the car. When Mycroft got in next to him, he laid his head on Mycroft's shoulder and dozed off again. Whatever it was that was making him sick kept coming in waves.

Stranger: Mycroft played with Greg's hair gently as he told his driver where the doctor's office was. As they pulled away, Mycroft pulled Greg closer with an arm around his waist.

You: The ride was quick, the doctor's office not too far away. When they got there, Lestrade was shaken awake again. He pressed a kiss to Mycroft's cheek then slowly worked his way out of the car.

Stranger: Mycroft quickly went around to help Greg out of the car, holding his arm out of Greg to take again. "Come on, love," he muttered. "You can sit down again soon."

You: Lestrade took the offered arm, clutching tightly as his balance wavered again. He walked slowly with Mycroft and collapsed down gratefully into a chair when they made it into the waiting room.

Stranger: Mycroft kissed the top of Greg's head before he went over to check him in. Coming back over to him, Mycroft sat down and let Greg's head fall onto his shoulder. He felt his breathing even out again and soon knew Greg had fallen asleep. "Baby, you know I hate waking you up when you feel like this," Mycroft whispered to his lover as his hand moved up to his hair.

You: "Lestrade?" a nurse called out, walking into the waiting room with a clipboard. Mycroft nodded at her and shook Greg awake again. "Love, it's time to go back," he said softly when Greg blinked at him.

Stranger: "Already?" Greg moaned as he sat up a little and looked at Mycroft. He nodded and stood as Mycroft stood next to him. "Can I have your arm again?" he asked quietly.

You: Mycroft held out his arm again without a word, allowing Greg to lean on him as they followed the nurse back. She kept shooting them worried looks, which started making Mycroft more worried than he was before. Once in the examination room, Mycroft helped Greg up on the examination table while he took one of the chairs.

Stranger: Greg sat up on the table, wishing Mycroft was closer to him but not daring to reach out to him or call him over. He looked away from Mycroft as the doctor walked in.

You: "Hello, I'm Dr. Sanderson," the doctor said, looking up at Greg from the chart in his hands. "What seems to be the problem today?"

Stranger: "He seems dizzy, was vomiting this morning, too weak to stand on his own and could barely move this morning," Mycroft said when Greg looked at him. He stood and went over to stand next to Greg. "Yeah, I just feel light headed and sick to my stomach," Lestrade added on.

You: Dr.Sanderson nodded, a careful eye on Lestrade. He noticed when the man tipped over slightly and caught himself against Mycroft. "Well, let's start with your blood pressure and temperature and go from there," Dr. Sanderson said, pulling out a thermometer. He went through the tests quickly but efficiently, marking down the 101 degree fever and elevated blood pressure.

Stranger: Mycroft stood over Greg, holding onto him as Greg gripped onto him for his life. Mycroft watched as Dr. Sanderson did the tests and Greg leaned more into his hold.

You: "What do you think?" Mycroft finally asked, unable to keep silent any more. Dr. Sanderson shrugged, unwilling to venture a guess just yet. "I need to listen to his heart and lungs," Dr. Sanderson said instead.

Stranger: "Do you need my shirt off?" Lestrade asked, his throat starting to hurt him again. He coughed heavily and closed his eyes.

You: "No, you're fine," Dr. Sanderson replied. He slid the stethoscope under Lestrade's shirt, worried about the cough he'd just heard. It sounded as if the man had fluid in his lungs. After a minute or so, the doctor slid the stethoscope back out and looped it around his neck. "I believe you have pneumonia," he said smoothly. "I'll prescribe you a painkiller and some antibiotics."

Stranger: "Pneumonia?" Greg asked slowly, his mind not being able to remember exactly what that was. "Can you refresh me on that?"

You: "It's similar to the flu but is more dangerous," Dr. Sanderson replied. "Basically, your lungs fill with fluid and you cough a lot. Cold chills and sweating is very common, along with exhaustion and lack of strength. Just keep drinking fluids and try to rest."

Stranger: "Does it get worse? Anything we should watch for?" Mycroft asked as he placed a hand on Greg's back firmly. Greg coughed painfully and Mycroft held him so he didn't fall off the table.

You: "If he won't wake up or if his temperature hits 104 degrees," Dr. Sanderson said after a few moment's thought. "You would need to go to the hospital then. Other than that, it's just going to take time."

Stranger: Mycroft felt Greg tense up a little bit at the mention of going to the hospital again. "Thank you," Mycroft said, nodding. "I'll make sure to watch for that. Anything else we should know?"

You: "Not really, no," Dr. Sanderson replied, noting the chart and filling out two prescriptions. "I would recommend taking him home and letting him rest as much as he likes. Though do wake him up every half hour or so to drink something."

Mycroft nodded and took the papers the doctor handed to him. He helped Greg down gently and held his arm out for him to take after the doctor had left. They started to make their way up to the front desk where Mycroft had to sign a few papers for health insurance. "We'll drop you off at home on the pull out bed then I'll run out and get your medicine," Mycroft said as they got into the car. "But before I leave, I want you to drink something, okay?"

You: Lestrade nodded, not trusting his voice since the effect of the honey had worn off. He coughed again in the car, a fit that had him hunching over his knees struggling to breathe. He could feel Mycroft rubbing his back as the driver pulled into traffic and could only hope the fit passed soon.

Stranger: Mycroft moved closer to Greg as the fit got worse and Greg had to double over. "Baby," he muttered, rubbing his back and glancing out the window to see the traffic. "You're alright baby, I've got you," Mycroft whispered softly to the coughing DI.

You: Lestrade finally got his breath back, wiping a hand over his mouth as he sat back up. He sent a small smile of thanks to Mycroft, fighting back the exhaustion that threatened to drag him back down again. "So... tired... love," he murmured, tipping sideways and resting against Mycroft.

Stranger: "We're only a few minutes away from the flat," Mycroft whispered, running his fingers through Greg's hair. "Can you stay awake so I can get you to drink something?" Mycroft kissed Greg's temple softly.

You: "I can.. try," Lestrade replied, sighing as he forced his eyes open again. He leaned further into Mycroft's touch, comforted by the fingers through his hair. "Tea, please?" he asked, remembering the soothing honey.

Stranger: Mycroft chuckled fondly and he kissed Greg's forehead. "Of course. Would you like honey in it again?" he asked with a smile.

You: "Please," Lestrade replied and rested his head on Mycroft's shoulder again. The movement of the car was putting him to sleep again but he could see that they were almost home. When they got back, he waited until Mycroft got out then climbed out himself, grabbing onto Mycroft's arm again.

Stranger: Mycroft led Greg up to the flat and opened the door for him. As Greg stepped inside, Mycroft led him into the living room, sitting him in a chair as he pulled out the couch bed. He made it up with sheets before lifting Greg into his arms with a chuckle and laying him on the bed. "Adorable," Mycroft whispered before kissing Greg's forehead and turning to go make the tea. "Try not to fall asleep now, I'll only be a few," he said as he left.

You: "I'm surprised... you can pick me up," Lestrade coughed out, snuggling deeper into the blankets. He listened to the familiar sounds of Mycroft making tea and struggled to sit up when he came back out with a cup. Taking the cup carefully, he took a deep drink and sighed at the warmth going down his throat.

Stranger: "Why?" Mycroft laughed lightly, watching the pleasure run over Greg's face as he sipped the tea. Mycroft ran his hand through his hair as he drank, sitting next to him on the bed.

You: "I'm almost as tall as you," Lestrade replied when he could speak without coughing. "And I'm fairly solid." Lestrade finished the tea and put the cup on the coffee table that had been moved aside to make room for the pull-out bed. He settled back down, pulling at Mycroft's arm to have him follow.

Stranger: Mycroft chuckled and let himself be pulled down. "You're not solid baby. I've told you before, you're perfect. Everything about you is perfect," Mycroft whispered, kissing Greg on the neck.

You: Lestrade yawned and tilted his head back, allowing Mycroft more access to his neck. "Thanks," he murmured sleepily, curling into Mycroft. "Can't stay awake, love." Lestrade's eyes slowly closed, a lassitude stealing over his limbs.

Stranger: Mycroft nipped his skin lovingly and just kissed it again before he chuckled. "Okay baby, but I have to go get your medication, okay? I'll be back in time to wake you up for more tea in forty-five minutes," Mycroft whispered, kissing Greg's cheek as he got up a little.

You: Lestrade only nodded, not opening his eyes. The blankets were warm enough for now; he could wait for Mycroft to come back. A few more coughs worked their way out of his throat then he fell asleep.

Stranger: Mycroft made his way out to his car and he climbed inside. He pulled away from the curb and started heading to the nearest drug store, the papers from the doctor in his pocket.

You: When he got to the store, he handed the prescriptions over to the pharmacist and wandered while waiting for them to be filled. When Lestrade's name was called, Mycroft hurried back and paid for the prescriptions.

Stranger: Lestrade's eyes fluttered open when he heard the front door close. "My-Mycroft?" Lestrade asked weakly, trying to sit up. He felt drained of all energy and soon gave up on sitting, just letting himself fall back into the pillow.

You: "I'm back, love," Mycroft called, pulling the prescriptions out of the bag and placing them on the coffee table. He moved over next to Greg and pressed a kiss to his forehead. His fever felt no higher, which reassured Mycroft slightly. "Let me get you some more tea and you can take your medicine," he said soothingly.

Stranger: Lestrade nodded, his eyes growing heavy again. He closed them and listened to the sounds off in the distance of Mycroft making the tea. He whimpered slightly as his stomach turned and he bit down on his lip, his head falling to the side to hide in the pillow.

You: Mycroft took the tea out to the living room on a tray, along with some crackers and some fruit. If he could get Greg to eat, so much the better. "Here, love," Mycroft said, helping Greg sit up and handing him the pills. "Take these and then try to eat something."

Stranger: Lestrade shook his head slightly before taking the pills. He downed them with the tea before looking at the fruit with a grimace. "I don't think.. I can eat," he mumbled, feeling his stomach turn again.

You: "All right, I'll just leave it on the table," Mycroft said, putting the plate down. He took the now-empty tea cup and put it back on the tray before stretching out on the bed and drawing Greg to him. "Sleep now, Greg. I've got you."

Stranger: "I feel I may be sick again," Lestrade muttered, staying sitting up and closing his eyes. He felt Mycroft's hand on his forehead and opened his eyes barely to look over at him.

You: "Give me a minute then," Mycroft said, pressing another kiss to his forehead and getting up. He found the bucket in their bedroom, cleaning it out in the bathroom before taking it back to the living room. Placing it on Greg's side of the bed, Mycroft slid back in carefully. "If you start to feel sick, just lean over," he advised.

Stranger: "Thank you," Lestrade whispered out, holding his own head slightly, feeling dizzy. "I'm sorry. I hate having you running around like this, I feel really bad about it." Lestrade sighed heavily before settling down slightly next to Mycroft, hoping that if he laid down that the wave that was hitting him right now would pass over.

You: Mycroft pulled Greg to him again, making sure his arms didn't drape over the other man's stomach. "Don't worry about it," Mycroft soothed him. "I don't mind taking care of you. You just need to focus on getting better."

Stranger: "Thank you, love," Lestrade muttered, sending Mycroft a soft smile that barely brushed his lips. "I love you so much."

You: "I love you, too," Mycroft replied, smiling back gently. "Now sleep." He brushed his fingers gently through Greg's hair, watchful until the other man's breathing slowed and evened into sleep.

Stranger: Lestrade relaxed as he felt Mycroft's fingers run through his hair. Slowly, he was dragged deeper and deeper into sleep, his eyes fluttering closed as his breathing slowed. The pain subsided slightly until he passed out.

\----------------------------------------------------

You: John was sitting at the desk in 221B, staring at his laptop screen and letting his mind wander. He was hoping for ideas for a new book but the only thing he could think of was Dean sitting in the backseat of the car with Mycroft. He still burned with the desire to know what was going on with all that and finally decided to just call Dean. Maybe he'd be more forthcoming than Mycroft. Pulling out his phone, he scrolled to the number in his contacts and hit send.

Stranger: Sherlock stared at his phone for a minute as it danced on the table he had set up down in his "bedroom." His papers were spread out all over the table along with the wall, notes scribbled all over them. He picked the waltzing phone up and answered it. "Hello?"

You: "Hi, Dean, it's John," John said quickly, hoping the other didn't hang up. "I just wanted to talk to you, if you had a few minutes?"

Stranger: "Uh, sure, John, what's up?" Sherlock asked slowly, leaning back in his chair and resting his feet on top of the table.

You: "Mycroft said you knew Greg Lestrade but when we talked, you gave me the impression you don't work with him," John said, fighting to keep his voice calm. He didn't like being lied to. "So, what do you really do? Do you even work at New Scotland Yard?"

Stranger: Sherlock sighed silently. "I do work at New Scotland Yard, yes. I don't work with Lestrade often, but we know each other from around the office. I helped him out on a few cases before when he needed an expert from my area, other than that, it's just lunch out or break room chats," Sherlock lied smoothly with a shrug.

You: "What made Mycroft think you'd be able to help earlier today?" John asked, changing tactics. "If you just work at New Scotland Yard, how could you have helped?"

Stranger: "Before I got into the chemical lab, which is where I am now, I used to be a... private detective, if you will. I worked for an agency," Sherlock said, making a note to text his brother the small details he's telling John, just in case. "I told DI Lestrade about my time there and I guess he told Mycroft."

You: "A private detective," John repeated flatly, trying to ignore the fluttering in his chest that gave him. Honestly, could this man be any more like Sherlock? "And what did Mycroft tell you about Moran?"

Stranger: "Honestly, not much," Sherlock shook his head. "He told me how this man is, how did he word it? Your sniper? He said he was after you from your friend's enemy, Moriarty? Who, I guess, killed himself?"

You: "That's what I understand about Moriarty," John said grimly, his face twisting into a mask of anger for the madman who had forced Sherlock to jump from that building. "So tell me something, Dean. How is it that you are so similar to my friend? Knowing Greg, working with chemicals, being a private detective, your appearance? One coincidence I can brush off, but that many?"

Stranger: "John, I honestly have no idea. I have never even met your friend before and I have only just met Mycroft. I've known DI Lestrade for only about two years. People do say that there is a twin out there for everyone, maybe I'm just your friend's, who knows?" Sherlock played off smoothly.

You: John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. He thought he was a patient man but this was getting frustrating. "Fine, I'll buy that for the moment," he finally said. "Do you know anything about this secret Mycroft can't tell me?"

Stranger: Sherlock laughed softly and shook his head. "Oh, John," he chuckled. "If he can't tell you, it's not my position to do so, now is it?"

You: "How do I know that?" John challenged, swallowing hard at the familiar laugh coming through the line. John reminded himself yet again that Sherlock was gone before continuing, "Besides, you may be able to tell me something different than what he told me."

Stranger: "I'm sorry, John," Sherlock said, the smile still playing on his lips. "I can't tell you. It's all up to Mycroft. He asked me not to say anything and I must respect his word." Sherlock paused for a moment, thinking, before taking a chance and asking, "Did you want to meet up for coffee again sometime soon?"

You: "I... I don't know," John admitted, tapping a finger on the desk next to his laptop. "I don't even know if I can really trust you anymore. I don't know if you're part of this whole mess with Moran."

Stranger: Sherlock sighed, his hope to see John again dropping. "I understand," he forced out. "But please, do understand that I have nothing to do with Moran. I haven't heard anything about him until a few days back when Mycroft had called me and told me the very little bit about him that he did. Just enough to get the job done and make sure you're safe."

You: "What exactly could you have done?" John asked curiously, wanting to hear more of Dean's voice despite himself. The cadence and tone were slightly different, but it was so close to Sherlock's.

Stranger: "Well, I am a pretty good shot if needed," Sherlock smirked. "Not to mention I'm fast, so I could have chased him down. I would have done all I needed to do to make sure you were safe in the end of it all." Sherlock bothered his lip, hoping John didn't somehow connect that to him being Sherlock. He didn't need John poking deeper into it.

You: John tilted his head to the side, surprised at the vehemence in Dean's voice. "Why?" was all he could ask. "Why do you care so much?"

Stranger: Sherlock chuckled into the phone and decided to take this as a way out. "I thought it would be obvious," Sherlock chuckled with a smirk. "I guess you'll just never know. But just in case you figure it out, I'll be down at the cafe at nine tomorrow morning."

You: "Obvious?" John repeated, confusion in his voice. "What do you mean obvious?" Though when there was the click of Dean hanging up, he couldn't say he was surprised. "Damn it," John muttered, glaring at his phone.

Stranger: Sherlock hung up the phone and, knowing John was smarter than most, smirked at the thought of John putting two and two together. He threw his phone over towards the bed and went back to looking over his notes and photos of Moran he had spread out along the table. He hoped to finish this quickly and as soon as possible.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

You: The next morning, John woke up early enough to obsess over whether he would go to the cafe or not. He had a fairly good idea of why Dean would be... protective would be the word he used, but John wasn't sure if he was willing to deal with that. His time with Greg notwithstanding, John still felt his heart belonged to Sherlock. Was it really fair to dump that baggage on someone else?

Stranger: Sherlock showed up at the cafe about an hour early, deciding he needed some time to look around at the shops. He still wanted to find John that pen, and the fact that his next birthday was already coming up didn't help at all. He didn't mean to buy it today, but he wanted a good look around that cafe just incase.

You: John got dressed quickly that morning, paying absolutely no attention to what he was wearing. He applied the same obliviousness to making tea and toast, almost burning the toast in the process. "Damn it," he swore quietly, pulling the dark pieces of bread from the toaster. "Just go. Talk to him and you'll stop obsessing over this."

Stranger: Sherlock sat down with fifteen minutes left till nine, already having ordered his coffee. As he waited for it to be made, Sherlock sat outside at the same table they sat at last time and watched the people walk by, his eyes scanning for John.

You: About 20 minutes until 9, John headed downstairs, locking the door behind him, and hailed a cab. His mind was made up; he'd go see Dean again this last time. He watched the buildings slide by as the cab drove, coming up to the cafe about five minutes before 9.

Stranger: Sherlock smiled as he saw John get out of a cab just a bit away, waving at him to get his attention. He watched as John limped over, his eyes scanning his body, trying not to make it too obvious, just in case John hadn't figured out the small hints Sherlock had dropped over the phone.

You: "So," John said when he stood next to the table. "You told me to figure it out on my own. You're here because you're attracted to me, right? You care because you are."

Stranger: Sherlock smiled wider as he stood and pulled a chair out for John. He waited till the doctor sat down before pushing him in slightly and going back to sit back down himself. "I'm glad to see you could figure it out, John," he smiled. "Can I take it that you're attracted to me as well, seeing you came here?"

You: "I haven't decided yet," John replied honestly. "I only recently, for me, admitted feeling something more than friendship for my flatmate. And I can't really tell if any attraction I feel for you is for you or for your similarities to him."

Stranger: "Is this the same friend that killed himself?" Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow. Sherlock stood and looked down at John before asking, "What did you want to drink? This is my treat today."

You: "Ah... just coffee please," John stammered, caught off guard by the offer. He'd been thinking about Dean's first question and memories of Sherlock were flooding his mind.

Stranger: "Alright, then," Sherlock smiled and placed a hand on John's shoulder before moving to go in the cafe. He order two plain coffees and went back out to wait for them with John. "You alright?" he asked as he retook his seat, seeing John's face blank.

You: "At the risk of sounding like a broken record, I don't know," John replied with a small, deprecating laugh. "My life has gotten a bit complicated lately and I'm not sure how I feel about that." As he talked, neither man noticed the bright glare of sunlight off glass in the building across the way. But that was exactly how Moran wanted it.

Stranger: "What about one date?" Sherlock asked slowly, getting up as he heard his name called. "Then if that doesn't work out, we can wait till your life isn't as complicated?"

You: "What do you call this then?" John asked, waving at the table and each of them. "It's not exactly platonic, now is it?"

Stranger: "I mean a real date," Sherlock chuckled. "Like, dinner and a walk in the park under the moon or something." Sherlock moved into the cafe and grabbed the drinks before coming back and handing one to John.

You: John took the proffered cup, taking a sip to prolong the time he had to answer. He was still unsure exactly what he felt for the man before him. However, it had been... a long time since Sherlock had jumped. "Sure," John finally said quickly, before he could change his mind.

Stranger: "That's great!" Sherlock smiled, his heart picking up in rate. "Where would you-" he cut off as he saw a small red dot appear on John's forehead. John didn't seem to notice as he gave Sherlock a confused look. It only took Sherlock a split second to get up and tackle John to the ground as the sound of a gun was heard off in the distance, John cursing loudly as Sherlock fell on top of him, taking the back of his head so it wouldn't slam against the hard ground.

You: "Dean, what the hell!" John snapped then froze when the gunshot filtered through his mind. "Oh god, I bet that was Moran. We need to get out of here." He struggled up but took cover under the table, scanning the buildings for the sniper.

Stranger: Sherlock got next to John and put a hand on his back, ready to push him out of harm's way again. A glint caught his eye and he looked up to the fire escape on the side of one of the buildings. He saw Moran mess with his gun a little before giving up and throwing it in the case. He started down the fire escape and Sherlock quickly got out from under the table. "Come on, John," he called before he darted away after Moran.

You: John darted after, adrenaline flooding through his veins. He forgot his cane but didn't need it right now, running as smoothly as he had with Sherlock through the streets. John pounded after Dean, a wild smile crossing his face. He had missed this. When he caught up with Dean, he glanced to the taller man and saw the same look on his face.

Stranger: Sherlock looked around wildly, searching for Moran. He caught the sight of a coat vanish around a corner and quickly started after him. "Quickly!" he called back to John, who dropped back slightly.

You: John picked up his pace again, also catching the edges of the coat vanishing around the corner. He was angry now, angry that someone he had once trusted had tried to kill him. John followed after Dean, their steps syncing as they ran. Moran wouldn't get away if John had anything to do about it.

Stranger: Sherlock glanced over his shoulder and John's footsteps started to drop back slightly. He knew John wasn't as fit as he used to be, not running through the streets every other night as they had done before all this started. He couldn't lose John now, through. Moran was out there, and if John was alone, Sherlock couldn't even think about what would happen. "Take my hand!" he called out behind him, holding his hand out to John.

You: John reached out automatically, another voice from another time echoing through his mind. Clasping hands with Dean, they ran on through back streets and alleyways, even up a fire escape and over roofs. But Moran was always ahead of them, the edge of a black coat or the corner of his bag all they ever saw.

Stranger: Sherlock was getting madder with every step forward he took. He pulled on John's hand and picked up the pace slightly, the space between them and Moran slowly closing. As they got back down another fire escape and back into the alleys, Sherlock quickly remembered a back way to the direction Moran was running. "This way," he told John, pulling him into the off set alleyway and pulling him along it. They came out onto a road, no cars in sight, just before Moran came running out of the alley they had just come from. Sherlock let go of John's hand and ran up to tackle the man to the ground.

You: John followed after Dean, helping to hold Moran's arms behind his back along with Dean. "What are you doing, Colonel?" John asked, deceptively lightly as he panted. He missed the pleased glance Sherlock shot him, glad that the ex-soldier had been able to keep up with him.

Stranger: "He's part of Moriarty's old team, John. I have been after him for a while," Sherlock growled before he realized what he was saying. Closing his eyes tightly, Sherlock could only hope John didn't catch the slip.

You: "Yes, I know," John said, squeezing hard on Moran's wrists and causing the other man to wince. He turned to Dean then, surprise and sudden comprehension on his face. "I think I figured it out," John said carefully, not wanting to give too much information to Moran. "I know why he went to you now."

Stranger: "John, you're good with guns right?" Sherlock asked, changing the subject. "I need you to see if you can get Moran's to work for me. Can you do that?" Sherlock looked up at John's face, which was really close to his. Their eyes locked and Sherlock resisted the urge to reach forward and kiss him.

You: John opened his mouth to reply but was struck speechless by the intensity of the quicksilver blue gaze boring into his own. Yet again, he was reminded of Sherlock. Shoving down the feeling, John nodded and shifted so that the man he still thought of Dean could hold Moran more securely. Picking up the bag, John extricated the rifle and examined it. "Tut, tut, Colonel," John said after a few moments. "You aren't taking good care of your weapons. The reason this jammed is the pin is rusty." Disassembling the rifle, John did his best to clean the components.

Stranger: Sherlock tried to focus all his attention on Moran but couldn't help send a few glances to John as he worked, and as he bent over to grab the gun itself. Sherlock heard Moran mumble something about the rusty pin but didn't really care enough to pay attention to him. "You almost have it, John?" he asked, watching John reassemble the gun's parts.

You: John finished putting the rifle back together, taking a moment to sight down the barrel. He turned to Dean and nodded. "As sure as I can be without firing it, yes," John said. "What did you have in mind for the rifle?"

Stranger: Sherlock held out his hand for the gun and was glad when John just handed it over, not having to argue for it. "Listen to me, John," Sherlock said slowly, standing up from Moran and pointing the gun at his chest as the man turned over. "I need you to go out of sight. Plausible deniability and all that. I'm sorry, but I have to finish this..."

You: "What? What do you mean, finish this?" John asked, not moving an inch. He looked from the gun down to Moran, wondering if he could just walk away from what was essentially a murder.

Stranger: "John, please. Mycroft hired me to do this. I have to finish off the IOU so Moriarty is gone forever," Sherlock muttered, moving over to John and placing a hand on his shoulder. "Please just... Go around the corner over there and don't watch. I have to do this." Sherlock gave into the urge slightly and pecked John on the cheek. He muttered, "I'm sorry," into John's ear as he kept to gun to Moran's heart.

Stranger: "Of course. Can you please just go behind the corner. I really don't want you to have to deal with the legal ramifications that might come with this," Sherlock muttered, leaning in again and brushing his lips gently over John's. Nothing more than a ghost of a kiss. "Go," Sherlock whispered as he felt John shudder slightly.

You: John took a deep breath and nodded, his skin thrilling from the light touch of lips to his. If nothing else would have convinced him he was attracted to Dean, that barely there kiss would. Without another word, John glared at Moran one last time then turned smartly on his heel and walked away. He heard the sound of metal scraping on metal before rounding the corner and could only surmise that Dean was putting a silencer on the rifle.

Stranger: Sherlock slid the silencer on and looked down the barrel of the gun, pointing it perfectly at Moran's heart. "The game is finally over," Sherlock said slowly, getting ready to pull the trigger.

You: "Assuming that if your first mistake," Moran spat, no fear in his eyes. He'd looked at death before and was prepared to die now. "What makes you think there aren't others out there, prepared to take over from me if I die?"

Stranger: "We've read the folders, all the records your other sniper buddies had in their flats; no one else is in the IOU," Sherlock growled as he realized that Moran was trying to throw him off. "The game is over, and you lose."

You: Moran torqued his head around as far as he could, trying to get a look at Sherlock. The voice was familiar.... "You're him," he gasped. "The man I shot. You're the one taking out my people?"

Stranger: "At least someone figured it out," he smirked before he pulled the trigger and shot Moran dead-center in the heart. Sherlock threw the gun down to the ground before lifting Moran into his arms. He hid the body in a pile of trash along the side of the street before texting Mycroft his location to get someone to pick up the body. He put the phone away before he looked around. "It's okay to come back now, John," he called.

You: John walked back to the alley, looking incuriously at the bloodstain on the ground. "You should wipe the rifle and get rid of it," John said, pointing to it. "Actually, it might be better to just melt it down. I'm sure my fingerprints are all over the pieces. Was he really the last one? The last of IOU?"

Stranger: Sherlock chuckled and waved the gun away. "I have people who are coming down just for that sort of thing. They'll make sure it looks like nothing happened," Sherlock smiled as he stepped up to John, pulling out his phone to have Mycroft tell him the guys would be there in less than ten minutes. "I'm sorry our... Outing got ruined, but yes, that should be the last of the IOU. Of course, Mycroft and I will probably do a few more scans, just in case."

You: "That's all right," John laughed warmly, placing one hand on Dean's arm. "This is more like the outings I'm used to. I've missed running through London. It's good that this is over. All the men responsible for Sherlock's death are taken care of. Thank you." John smiled at Dean then, one full of joy and possible promise. "Tell me, how long have you been working for Mycroft?"

Stranger: "About two and a half years now," Sherlock said slowly. "He hired me to take care of the IOU days after your friend's death. Of course, I didn't know that at the time." Sherlock smile back at John and leaned slightly into his hand.

You: "Thank you," John said again, getting lost in the quicksilver eyes. "This will make it easier to prove he wasn't a fraud. There isn't anyone around anymore to say he was." He stopped then, relief and an old pain flickering through him. No matter how much he might seem like him, Dean was not Sherlock. And John thought he was finally ready to accept that. Before he could speak, though, footsteps rang out through the alley.

Stranger: Sherlock looked up to see Mycroft walking up to them, a few men behind him. Sherlock touched John's arm before going over to Mycroft and the men. He shook Mycroft's hand for show before he turned to the men. "He's in the trash pile over there," Sherlock said with a nod over his shoulder. The men moved away before he turned to Mycroft. "I'm going to take John away from here so he doesn't see the body and all."

You: "He was a soldier and a doctor, I think he's used to seeing bodies," Mycroft said softly, studying his brother and making sure he was ok. "Besides, you have to report to me and explain this... operation."

Stranger: "I can do that later, and you have to remember... Sir," Sherlock bit out slightly, knowing John could probably hear them. "John has plausible deniability if I keep him away. Plus he used to trust this man. It's going to hurt him to see his body. I'm taking him away from here."

You: Mycroft stepped closer to Sherlock, not wanting John to overhear the next words out of his mouth. "Be careful, Sherlock," Mycroft breathed. "I can see that John likes you. Imagine what it's going to do to him once he finds out you're alive. But, take him. I see your point. Go back to 221B and, for god's sake, act like you've never been there before."

Stranger: Sherlock chuckled lightly and nodded. "I think I can do that," he breathed back before walking back over to John. "These guys are going to finish up here and I told Mycroft I'll give him my report later. Want to go to your place and calm down after all this?"

You: "Sure," John replied, nodding. He turned his back on the men digging through the trash, not wanting to see what was left of Moran. Just knowing that he was dead was enough. "I live on Baker Street. I think we can catch a cab on the main street from here." He started walking out of the alleyway, knowing that Dean was following. The weight of the other man's gaze on John's back was almost tangible

Stranger: "Sounds nice," Sherlock smirked as he followed John into the cab. He got in and looked at John, their bodies close due to the tight space of the cab. "Thank you, for helping and all," Sherlock smiled lightly.

You: John smiled back and said, "You're welcome. Though I may need to go back to the cafe at some point. I forgot my cane when you dashed off."

Stranger: "Do you need it?" Sherlock asked with a smile as he raised an eyebrow at John. "Do you?"

You: John was silent as he considered it, poking at his leg with a finger. It didn't twinge with pain and his hand was steady. "I suppose not," he replied. "I can't believe the limp and tremor are gone."

Stranger: "I guess it was all in your head," Sherlock smiled as he placed his hand on John's knee and squeezed it lightly. "But if you still want to use it-"

You: "I hate it," John spat bitterly, his face twisting into a grimace. "I hate feeling like I have a disability that others have to cater to. I hate losing control of my body. I haven't walked with the damn thing for almost three years now. Thank you for helping me get rid of it."

Stranger: Sherlock wrapped his arm around John's shoulder and hugged him to him tightly. "It was no problem," he whispered. "I'm just glad you're better now."

You: John leaned into the warmth, closing his eyes as exhaustion hit him. The adrenaline had nearly drained away by now, leaving him limp and sore. Before he could fall asleep, though, the cabby announced that they were at the flat.

Stranger: Sherlock released John and smiled at him lightly. He paid the cabbie and followed John out of the cab. Looking around the street, he stood behind John as he waited for him to unlock the front door. "Looks like a nice place," Sherlock smiled as they made their way up the stairs.

You: "It is," John replied as Mrs. Hudson came out of her flat. "John, someone from some cafe called about you leaving your cane," she said before catching sight of Sherlock. "And who are you?"

Stranger: Sherlock extended his hand to her and offered her a soft smile. "Dean," he said as she took his hand. "I'm a... friend of John's."

You: "Really?" Mrs. Hudson asked, a smile wreathing her face. "It's wonderful you're meeting people again, John! I'll bring some biscuits up for you both." Before either man could answer, Mrs. Hudson turned and rushed back into her flat, the door closing soundly.

Stranger: Sherlock chuckled before turning to John. "Can we go in your flat now?" he asked with a small smile, winking at John.

You: "Uh, sure, yeah," John replied, nonplussed. He stared at Mrs. Hudson's door for a moment before turning and heading upstairs. "She always claims to be my landlady not my housekeeper and then she goes and gets biscuits. I think she just likes to mother people."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded as he stepped into John's flat. He chuckled lightly and started to look around. "It's very nice in here," he commented. "Very clean and well kept. You do a good job."

You: "Thanks, it's easier now that I'm the only one here," John replied, looking wistfully around the flat. Memories of experiments or Sherlock walking in covered in blood with a harpoon ran through his mind. "You want tea?"

Stranger: "I'd love some," Sherlock smiled, moving over to the skull that still sat on the mantle. Next to it sat a frame with the note he had left for John in it. He smiled to himself, re-reading it when he heard John re-enter the room.

You: "Here you go," John said, placing a cup on the table next to the chairs. "What are you doing with that?" He pointed at the note in Sherlock's hands, embarrassment and slight anger crossing his face.

Stranger: "Just looking at it," Sherlock said slowly. "It's very sweet. Who wrote it?"

You: "My friend, Sherlock," John replied, the name coming easily off his lips though his stomach twisted. He sat down heavily in the red-patterned armchair and picked up his tea cup. "I found it after he... after he was gone."

Stranger: "It's very... cute, if I can say that," Sherlock said slowly, smiling at John. "He must have really loved you."

You: "I like to think so, since finding that note," John said, a small, answering smile crossing his face. "We kind of... missed each other when we were flatmates, you know? I always assumed he never saw anyone that way."

Stranger: "So are you going to miss another?" Sherlock asked slowly, setting the note back down and raising an eyebrow at John.

You: "I haven't decided yet. I'm still trying to process the fact that IOU is gone," John admitted, taking a sip of his tea. "Why did you seek me out in the first place?"

Stranger: Sherlock shrugged and walked closer to John. "You were cute," he whispered, bending over to peck John on the cheek as a soft knock was heard on the door.

You: "Biscuits, dears," Mrs. Hudson called, nudging the door open with her foot. She paused for a moment in the doorway then giggled as she saw Sherlock stand up from bending over John. "Thanks, Mrs. Hudson," John said quickly, fighting the blush that threatened to rise on his face.

Stranger: "No problem, dears," Mrs. Hudson giggled as she handed the tray over to John and quickly retreated to her own flat. Sherlock followed John into the kitchen as John set the tray down.

You: John stared at the biscuits, trying to decide what he felt at this exact moment. He was used to Mrs. Hudson assuming things about him and Sherlock, but having her walk in on that moment was a little more embarrassing. John still wasn't quite sure yet where he wanted this... thing between them to go. When he stepped back, he bumped into Dean and lost his balance.

Stranger: Sherlock quickly reached out and caught John around the waist, pulling him up and close to Sherlock. He stared down at John wordlessly as their eyes met and Sherlock didn't know what to do. He just wanted to stay there holding John close and looking into his light eyes.

You: John met the quicksilver blue eyes with his own dark blue ones, a thrill dancing over his skin. With a small sigh, he stepped back, nodding his thanks to Dean. "Um, I think I'm fairly well settled now, if you need to get back to your job," John murmured, moving back to the living room.

Stranger: "John," Sherlock said as he went after John, reaching out and grabbing his arm. "Please... I saw something there, can you tell me what it was?" Sherlock asked as John spun around to face him.

You: John was silent for several moments, not trying to play hard to get but trying to understand what exactly he felt. Attraction to a woman was familiar and he understood that intimately. But the attraction to Dean, he still couldn't decide if it was to the similarities to Sherlock or not? "I felt... something," John finally admitted. "A thrill down my spine."

Stranger: Sherlock smiled and heard his phone beep in his pocket. He read the text from Mycroft seeing he was needed back at the murder scene and sighed. "I do have to go, actually," Sherlock said slowly, walking over to John to hug him. "I'll see you later. And remember that thrill, okay?" he smirked before pecking John on the cheek.

You: John watched Dean walk out in silence and sipped his tea again. "I don't think I'm going to be able to do anything else," he said wryly, nibbling at the biscuit he'd carried with him. He felt the exhaustion flood him again and decided that it might not be a bad idea to take a nap. Today had been... interesting.

Stranger: Sherlock made his way back to Mycroft and went up to him, standing beside him. "What did you need, Mycroft?" Sherlock asked as he looked over the mostly cleaned up alley.

You: "I don't want you spending too much time around John right now," Mycroft replied smoothly. "He's had a difficult time. I would also like you to walk me through what happened here. I rather surprised and pleased you've taken care of Moran."

Stranger: "Yeah, he was actually pretty easy in the end," Sherlock said before he started to walk Mycroft through all that happened. He walked Mycroft around the alley, pointing things out and telling him the whole story, adding that John didn't see him kill Moran.

You: "At least I won't have to worry about protecting John," Mycroft sighed when Sherlock was finished. "The rifle is on it's way to being melted down by now so that's one less complication. Really, Sherlock, why do you keep meeting with him? You're just increasing your danger every time you do."

Stranger: "What danger Mycroft? The IOU is done for! In a couple days I can go back to John!" Sherlock said with a smile. "I know I risked it this time, and I know it was a close call, but it all paid off in the end."

You: "They weren't gone when you sought him out," Mycroft pointed out reasonably, sighing. "And I don't think a couple days is going to cut it. We have a lot of work to do before you can come back to life." He squared his shoulders then, prepared for an outburst he was fairly sure was coming.

Stranger: "Ho-How long?" Sherlock asked slowly, his heart dropping into his stomach. He wanted to go back to John so badly it was actually starting to hurt.

You: Mycroft fiddled with his umbrella, tracing random patterns on the ground with the tip. He knew Sherlock wasn't going to like this. "Six months, maybe?" he replied, placing a hand on Sherlock's arm. "You need to be patient, little brother. I'll have you back to him as soon as I can."

Stranger: "Six months? Six months? Why six months?" Sherlock stammered, his eyes widening. "What could we possibly have to do for six months?!"

You: "You should have your name cleared and we need to make sure that there is absolutely no one else in IOU," Mycroft replied. "Plus, there's all the paperwork to bring you back." He turned away at a call from one of his agents, nodding at the all-clear signal the other man sent. "Let's head back to my office. We can plan there."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and followed Mycroft to his car. "What kind of paper work is there?" he asked as Mycroft got into the car and shut the door behind him. "What would I possibly have to do?"

You: "Well, for one, you are legally dead right now," Mycroft explained in the car. "We need to get that status changed. Also, there are a few things I would like you to look into first. Being a non-entity can only help with that."

Stranger: "Are there any sort of legal fees or anything that I need to worry about? Won't go to jail for faking my death, will I?" Sherlock asked as he let the reality of it all sink in. He was so excited about being able to go back to John now that Moran was done for. Now it seemed like he still had a while to go before he can ever even talk to John again, Dean or not. Could he still see John as Dean?

You: "Fees?" Mycroft repeated, glancing at Sherlock as he pulled into a parking space. "I don't believe there will be fees. And I'm sure we can find a way around you faking your death." He turned the car off and turned to Sherlock, a serious look on his face. "However, I want you out of London while we're putting your reputation back together."

Stranger: "Out of London?" Sherlock asked, his face dropping. "What? Why?"

You: Mycroft shook his head and got out of the car, intent on finishing the conversation in the comfort of his office. He waited a second to make sure Sherlock was following then lead the way through the Club.

Stranger: Sherlock followed Mycroft through the Club and waited until they were in the office. "What do you mean out of London?" he snapped as Mycroft sat down behind his desk. "Where do you want me to go?"

You: "I want you to look into a few cases I have pending," Mycroft replied smoothly, pulling out a file from one of the drawers. He held it out to Sherlock, continuing, "I have agents abroad who are secreted in varying levels of criminal organizations. I can't reach them through the normal channels. You, however, can."

Stranger: Sherlock sighed as he took the files. "Where is all this?" he asked as he flipped through the papers.

You: "Mostly in Russia but I have a few agents in Poland and France," Mycroft said, sitting back in his chair. He pressed a small button, letting the nearly-invisible servants know that he would like tea. "I believe it will be easier to clear your name without you trying to "help" along the process. And I think John might take your return better if you didn't press your... advantage as Dean."

Stranger: "So I can't see John for six months?" Sherlock sighed. He ran a hand through his hair and took a note to color it tonight if he could. "Is there any way that it may be possible to wrap this up sooner than six months?"

You: Mycroft spread his hands in an I-don't-know gesture just as there was a quiet knock on the door. At his call, a man came in pushing a tea trolley and left it next to Mycroft's desk. After he left, Mycroft poured the tea and said, "I will do everything in my power to make it shorter, Sherlock, but Moriarty was thorough."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and took the cup his brother handed to him. He sipped from it for a few moments being silent before he said, "Can I see John one last time before I leave? I promised him coffee before we went running after Moran. I want to see that through and at least tell him I'm leaving, that way it doesn't just seem like I got up and left him."

You: Mycroft considered it for a moment. With what he had seen in the alleyway, he could tell John was forming an attachment to Dean. However, one last visit to say goodbye wouldn't hurt and would most likely put Dean in John's good graces. "Yes," Mycroft said simply. "But I don't want you pushing the attraction between you two any further. How conflicted do you think John might be once he realizes you're Dean? He's had a difficult time and you shouldn't make it any harder."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded, his mind reminding his body of that ghost of a kiss he had pressed against John's lips. It would be difficult not to repeat it, but if it meant he could see John again, he would just have to deal with it. "I understand. I won't press forward with him as Dean."

You: "Good. There's a plane in three days that I'd like you to be on," Mycroft said, sipping his tea. "Be careful, Sherlock. These agents or yourself will be killed if you make one wrong move."

Stranger: "I understand," Sherlock nodded again. He stood to leave before Mycroft spoke up once again.

You: "I know this is difficult for you, Sherlock," Mycroft said apologetically. "I know the last thing you want to do is leave. But this is going to be better in the long run. John's waited this long, he'll continue to wait for you."

Stranger: "What if he doesn't?" Sherlock asked, turning around. "What if he finds someone else and falls for them? You saw him; he fell for Dean pretty quickly! What's stopping him from falling for someone else?"

You:"Sherlock, really? You're asking me that when you have all your powers of deduction available?" Mycroft chided Sherlock, a smug smile on his face. "How many times did John mention Dean reminded him of Sherlock?"

Stranger: Sherlock fell quiet, knowing Mycroft was right. "Still..." he muttered, the thought still in his mind. "It's possible..."

You: "Sherlock, you're worrying too much," Mycroft said softly. "You can even confirm it when you say goodbye. Have John talk about his memories of you. You'll hear it."

Stranger: "Mycroft, you remember how you felt when Lestrade was with John?" Sherlock paused as his brother nodded slowly. "I've felt like that for two and a half years. That pain and anger, mostly at myself. I'm sorry, but I'm going to question if I'm going to lose him completely or not, even though I know he still loves me..."

You: Mycroft shrugged, at a loss for words of comfort. He'd said everything he could think of but understood that nothing would convince Sherlock short of revealing himself to John. "Then I would suggest you work quickly," Mycroft finally said.

Stranger: "And I beg you do to the same," Sherlock said slowly before he turned and left the room. He hailed a cab and directed it to Molly's. As the driver pressed on, Sherlock pulled out his phone. Care for coffee tomorrow morning? I need to talk to you about something. -Dean.

You: John jumped at the beep from his phone, for once completely absorbed by the program on the TV. He checked his phone quickly, not really surprised to see a message from Dean.  
Sure. What time? - JW

Stranger: Does around ten work for you? -Dean.

You: Yes. See you then. - JW

Stranger: Can't wait. -Dean.

\---------------------------------End Chapter 14---------------------------------------


	15. Chapter 15

You: The next morning, John headed out of the flat cheerfully for the first time in ages. He wasn't using his cane and his hand wasn't shaking. He walked to the cafe rather than taking a cab, revelling in the fact that his leg didn't hurt. Getting there early, John took a table outside and watched people walking by.

Stranger: Sherlock showed up a little shy of ten and smiled when he saw John already sitting there, no cane in sight. "Hey," Sherlock beamed as he walked over to John.

You: "Hello, Dean," John replied, rising and holding out his hand. It was possibly a little manipulative on his part but John could admit to himself he enjoyed touching the other man.

Stranger: Sherlock shook his head with a small laugh and used John's hand to pull him into a hug. "Come on, I think we're passed the hand shaking," he chuckled.

You: John was frozen for a moment in the hug but loosened his muscles and returned it. The hug felt surprisingly comforting and a bit familiar. Stepping back, John put a smile on his face while he considered the ramifications of what he was feeling. Could there be any other reason why Dean reminded him so of Sherlock. "What did you want to talk about?" John asked, sitting down again.

Stranger: Sherlock sat down as well and thought for a moment. "I actually wanted to say goodbye, John," Sherlock said slowly, bothering his lip slightly.

You: "Goodbye?" John asked, tilting his head to the side. "What do you mean?"

Stranger: "I'm leaving for six months... Mycroft needs my help with something up in Russia. He told me it's a six month job and I leave in three days," Sherlock said, his eyes meeting John's.

You: "That's rather sudden," John said thoughtfully if a bit sardonically.. "But I suppose things happen quickly for the British Government."

Stranger: "Yeah, they really do," Sherlock sighed. "What do you want to drink? I personally need a coffee right now." Sherlock stood and looked down at John with a smile.

You: "Coffee as well. I'll get it this time though," John replied, standing as well. "You got my coffee last time."

Stranger: "But I asked you out on this date," Sherlock protested with a laugh. "So doesn't that mean I buy?"

You: "We're calling this a date now?" John asked, a sly smile breaking over his face. "I insist. Let me get the coffee as a going-away coffee."

Stranger: "Fine," Sherlock smiled. "But if this isn't a date, I might need to see you again before I go."

You: John just kept smiling, heading into the cafe to get coffee for himself and Dean. As he stood in line, he kept shooting glances out the window at the man. Really, the similarities between him and Sherlock were striking. Enough that John needed to keep reminding himself that Sherlock was gone and nothing he could do would bring him back. He headed back out with the coffees, handing one to Dean and letting their fingers brush. "I think I'm all right with calling this a date," John said as he sat down.

Stranger: Sherlock smiled and took a sip from his coffee. "Thank you," he said, holding his drink up to John and smirking. "And good, 'cause I don't honestly know if I have time for another."

You: "Six months is a long time," John mused, blowing on his coffee to cool it down a bit. "What do you plan on doing when you get back?"

Stranger: "Don't know," Sherlock said, trying to hold back the smile as he thought about returning to John. "I'll have to see what's going on around here, I guess."

You: "Yes, that sounds like a plan," John nodded, sipping at his now-cooled coffee. "So is the only reason you asked me here to say goodbye?"

Stranger: "No, I wanted to talk with you. Hang out, go on that date," Sherlock smirked and sipped from his coffee. "Why, is there something you want to do?"

You: John shook his head, a rueful smile crossing his face. "I just wanted to know if you had to leave," he replied. "Mycroft seems to keep you on a short leash. And I enjoy spending time with you."

Stranger: "You do?" Sherlock asked, the smile taking his features over fully. "And why's that?"

You: "You're easy to be around," John admitted, turning his coffee cup in circles on the table. "I feel like I can talk to you about anything. And, though I know it's probably something I manufactured, there's something comfortingly familiar about you."

Stranger:"I feel the same way," Sherlock said as he sipped his coffee again. He took a moment to look over John's face, memorizing each feature. "It's... easy."

You: John met the silvery blue eyes studying him evenly, feeling as if Dean was turning him inside out. He shivered a bit at the thought. "So how much of your backstory is true?" he asked suddenly. "When you were posing as a tech at New Scotland Yard?"

Stranger: "All of it," Sherlock said as he leaned back in his chair. "But the time isn't the same. I used to work at New Scotland Yard and with DI Lestrade. I went back to being a detective about a year ago."

You: "I see," John said, nodding. "And what name did you go by? I'm assuming Dean Michaels is a cover provided by Mycroft?"

Stranger: Sherlock shook his head. "No, that is my real name. There was no point in hiding it from people like you and whatnot. I didn't have to go undercover for much, so names weren't important," Sherlock shrugged and set his coffee down.

You: John fell silent then, digesting the information. It was nice to know that he hadn't been lied to about everything. As the sun came out from behind a cloud, it fell on their table and highlighted Dean. John could clearly see the black hair still growing in from his roots and was struck by the resemblance to Sherlock yet again. He shook his head to clear the image.

Stranger: Sherlock caught John staring and chuckled. "You like what you see?" he joked, picking his cup back up and finishing it off.

You: John looked away and chuckled, fighting back the flustered feeling that rose in his chest. "You're probably sick of hearing this, all the times I've said it, but there are moments when you really remind me of my friend," John said, self-deprecation evident in his voice.

Stranger: "Is that bad?" he asked, tilting his head slightly and looking at John. He could see the way John was looking at him, as though trying to piece together a puzzle.

You: "No, but I'm sure it can't be easy for you, constantly being compared to a dead man," John replied frankly, bringing his gaze back to Dean's. "I think it's something I would be uncomfortable with."

Stranger: "No, but it makes it hard to make a move on you when you keep comparing me to someone you used to love. Or still do? I don't know," Sherlock said as John's eyes met his.

You: John sighed as he considered his next words carefully. To stall for a bit more time, he drank the rest of his coffee then sat turning the cup again. "Still do," he explained. "However, he's gone and I doubt even he could come back."

Stranger: "People don't just come back from the dead, John," Sherlock said reasonably, trying to hide the underlying tone in his voice from the irony of the sentence. "It just doesn't happen."

You: "Yes, I know that," John said sadly, shaking his head. "Doesn't stop me from wishing for a miracle, though."

Stranger: "Will you ever move on completely?" Sherlock forced out the question, scared of the answer. "Move on to someone else?"

You: John was silent again for several long moments, searching within himself for an honest answer. And the one that he found was not surprising in the least. "I doubt it," he replied. "I tried that, for a while. It didn't work."

Stranger: Sherlock forced the smiled down to keep from coming on his lips. "So I should just give up?"

You: John tilted his head, studying Dean's face. There was something here, something he was just missing. You see but you do not observe ran through John's mind. "I don't know," he said honestly. "We barely know each other."

Stranger: Sherlock moved his chair closer towards John's and rested his hand over John's gently. "Then let's get to know each other better."

You: "Why?" John asked, not moving his hand. "Why would you persist when you have such a strong chance for failure?"

Stranger: "It's just what people do," Sherlock whispered with a smile, leaning in closer to breathe into John's ear.

You: John hissed in surprise, jerking away from Dean. That phrase conjured up a string of bad memories, ending with nightmares in which he and Sherlock both died in an explosion. "Wh... Why would you say that?" he muttered.

Stranger: "Because it's true," Sherlock said, frowning when John pulled away. "People naturally want what they can't have, especially if they really love it."

You: "Why that phrase, though?" John persisted, skipping over the word love for now. "It's not exactly a common saying."

Stranger: Sherlock shrugged and took his hand off John's. "Because it is just what people do... Nothing more to it..."

You: John let out a shaky breath, forcibly reminding himself to calm down. There was no way Dean had anything to do with Moriarty. Just a coincidence. "Right, sorry," John said, looking down at his coffee cup. "That phrase just... brings up bad memories."

Stranger: "May I ask what they are?" Sherlock asked gently, placing his hands on the table and leaning forward. "Or is that... Too personal?"

You: "It's personal, but I'll tell you anyways," John said, shrugging. "I've held the memories long enough. It would be nice to share them. It started with a man named Moriarty and several pounds of semtex strapped to me. He used me to get to Sherlock and when they finally met, one of the things he yelled in response to Sherlock saying people had died was "That's what people do!" We nearly died twice that night."

Stranger: "Twice? The bombs and how else?" Sherlock asked, remembering the night clearly, a small shiver going down his back as he thought about John strapped with the bombs, and the way he had grabbed onto Moriarty, trying to save Sherlock's own life. John had always been there, so why did it take so long for him to figure out he was in love with this man?

You: "The bomb both times," John replied, eyes to the side as he relived the memory. "Once when Moriarty ordered his pet snipers to kill us then changed his mind. Then, when he came back and Sherlock was going to detonate the bomb and kill all of us."

Stranger: "He would do that?" Sherlock asked slowly. "I mean... There was no other way?"

You: "To stop Moriarty, I believe Sherlock was capable of many things," John said, turning back to Dean. "But I would have done the same in his place. He asked me, in fact, before turning. No words, at that point we didn't need them. We understood each other, the lengths we would go to stop that madman."

Stranger: "You were both... Very brave, John," Sherlock said quietly, leaning closer again and pressing a kiss to John's cheek. "I'm sorry about you losing him..."

You: John leaned into the kiss for a moment then pulled away. "Thanks," he murmured, still lost in memories. "I'm sorry to go maudlin on you but Sherlock tended to consume my life. Not that I really complained about it. There was always one thrill and adventure after another with him."

Stranger: "It sure sounds like it," Sherlock muttered, staying close to John. "Maybe you can tell me some of the stories sometime?"

You: John narrowed his eyes, trying to figure out why Dean would want to know so much about Sherlock. "I could," he temporized. "But why? Why do you care about him?"

Stranger: "I don't, but if I get to hear your voice..." Sherlock trailed off and winked.

You: John laughed warmly, surprised at the blatant flirtation. It had been a while since anyone had deemed him interesting enough to flirt with. Much longer since he'd wanted to flirt back. "Why don't we talk about something else then?" he asked.

Stranger: "Like what?" Sherlock smiled, moving his chair closer again, pushing himself over to sit down right next to John.

You: "How about we talk about you for a bit?" John suggested, leaning forward just slightly. "How about some of the more interesting things from when you were a detective?"

Stranger: "Well, what would you like to hear about? Cases?" Sherlock asked, smirking as he noticed John leaning forward.

You: "Sure," John replied, shrugging. "How about the case that brought you to Mycroft's attention. It takes a lot to get him to take notice."

Stranger: "I was working with Lestrade on a case when I was still at Scotland Yard. There was a man who had died but Lestrade couldn't figure out how; no traces of any sort of murder, no blood, nothing. He hadn't died of natural causes after a closer look, so Lestrade was thinking it was a chemical of some sort," Sherlock lied, remembering back to the case he had solved with John that ended with John strapped to a bomb. "It turned out it was a hard-to-trace chemical, barely noticeable. I had helped solve that when Mycroft became aware of everything."

You: "Sounds complicated," John said, fiddling with his cup again. "Do you often take the difficult cases? Cases that would normally go cold?"

Stranger: "No, not always. But Lestrade was a friend and needed my help," Sherlock shrugged and watched John's fingers move the cup around the table.

You: "What did you do before all this? Before you worked at New Scotland Yard and became a private detective," John continued. The more he listened to Dean, the more entranced he became by the man's voice. It was deep and, again, reminded him strongly of Sherlock.

Stranger: "College," Sherlock shrugged. "My parents were college teachers, so they encouraged that greatly."

You: John nodded at that. He could understand wanting your child to have a college education. So many things now required it. "What did you study?"

Stranger: "Chemical science mostly," Sherlock said. "It was always an interest to me."

You: "You're not helping this, you know," John said suddenly, voice wry. "The more you tell me, the more similarities there are between you and my friend." As he studied Dean, another thought crossed his mind. If anyone could come back, it would have been Sherlock. Could he have done so? Or not died somehow in the first place?

Stranger: "What do you want me to do?" Sherlock asked, frowning. "Lie? I don't know what your friend was like. Even if I was to lie, I don't know if it's what this friend of yours was like. I never knew him."

You: "I know and I'm sorry," John replied, shaking his head. "Perhaps this wasn't the best idea I've ever had. It's about time for me to be heading home."

Stranger: "Can I walk you home?" Sherlock asked, standing as John did the same.

You: "I don't think that would be a good idea, either," John replied, a touch regretfully. He left the coffee cup where it was, knowing that one of the baristas inside would be clearing the tables soon. "It was nice to see you again, Dean. Stay safe working for Mycroft."

Stranger: "John, please, wait," Sherlock said slowly, grabbing John's wrist gently as John started to walk away. "I don't want to leave like this..."

You: John allowed himself to be stopped and turned to look back at Dean. "What should we leave it like then?" he asked quietly, sorrow and regret in his eyes.

Stranger: "Just once..." Sherlock muttered, placing his hand on the back of John's neck and leaning in slightly. "Then if you don't like it, you'll be rid of me for six months..."

You: John stared into Dean's eyes again and wondered. Maybe, if given enough time, the constant barrage of memories would go away. Maybe, he could move on. Never one to shy away from a challenge, and it was, John nodded. He closed the distance between them, leaning up to press his lips against Dean's.

Stranger: Sherlock felt his eyes flutter closed and didn't fight it. He stepped closer to John, his body pressing gently into John's and his other hand going around to fit on the small of the other man's back. He closed his mouth around the doctor's a few times, gently and smoothly.

You: Keenly aware that they were still outside and probably being stared at by every patron at the cafe, John kept the kiss light though his body was yelling for more. He also kept his hands at his sides, clenched into fists. Finally, he stepped back and met Dean's eyes again. What he saw there almost had him laughing wildly. The other man's eyes were dilated and John could see the pulse jumping in his neck.

Stranger: As soon as John stepped back, Sherlock wanted nothing more than to pull him back and kiss him more, deeper. He let the urge fade, remembering he wasn't Sherlock to John at the moment and just met John's eyes. He saw the dilated pupils, he could feel the racing heartbeat and he thought John had never looked cuter. "That was... amazing," he muttered, his voice too weak for more.

You: "Yes," John admitted, just as quietly. "We should go, before we spontaneously combust from the weight of everyone's stares." He turned again, easily getting out of Dean's grip and started walking.

Stranger: "You don't want me to follow, do you?" Sherlock asked as he watched John walk away, himself just standing where John was just moments ago.

You: "I did say we, didn't I?" John countered, not even turning around.

Stranger: Sherlock felt a smile take over his lips and jogged after John, catching up and slipping into John's pace, staying close to his side. He didn't say anything, just let the comfortable silence fall between them as they walked.

You: John was content with the silence, still arguing with himself. One part of him said that Sherlock was everything to him and always would be. Another part said that while it was noble to stay devoted to Sherlock, he was gone and never coming back. He'd never felt so conflicted, especially when faced with Dean.

Stranger: "John?" Sherlock asked slowly, reaching over and running his fingers over the back of John's hand. "Are you alright?"

You: "I think I'm getting there," John replied, smiling. They reached 221B and John opened the door, beckoning Sherlock inside. "I know we just had coffee," he said, walking up the stairs. "But I can make tea if you like."

Stranger: "That sounds nice, thank you," Sherlock smiled as John let them into the flat and rushed off to go make tea. Sherlock sat down at the couch and draped one of his arms across the spine of the couch. He hoped John would join him so they could sit close together.

You: John busied himself in the kitchen, pulling down two cups and waiting for the water to boil. Once it was done, he poured the water over the tea bags and automatically put the amount of sugar and milk in the cups that he and Sherlock had both liked. He had already handed the cup to Dean when he realized his mistake. "Ah, if the tea's not how you like it, I can make it again," John said, shaking his head at himself.

Stranger: "No, i-it's fine. I normally take it without anything in it, but this way is good too," Sherlock said with a smile as he took a good sip. He didn't want to give John any ideas so he had to lie a little.

You: John nodded and sat down on the other end of the couch. He drank his tea, hissing a little at the heat. "So, tell me something about your childhood," he said at length.

Stranger: "Well, I'm a single child," Sherlock started, thinking about what to say. "I grew up mostly poor, rough part of town, tough school... I was always bullied." Sherlock paused. He knew he couldn't lie to John about everything, so maybe he could be truthful about the bullying. "Pushed into lockers, stuffed inside, head in toilet... Beaten up, called names... You name it." Sherlock dropped his to head to look into his lap, starting at the cup.

You: "That must have been hard," John said sympathetically, reaching out and placing a hand on Dean's shoulder. Though he'd be lying if he said it was only in sympathy. "I hope you had someone on your side, a friend."

Stranger: "Nah..." Sherlock said slowly, shaking his head as he played with the rim of the cup. "Everyone in the school hated me. My only friend lived in Russia, and he died in a house fire when I was only fifteen. Otherwise, I was alone."

You: "I'm sorry," John replied. "I can't imagine going through school being tormented by everyone. It probably would have driven me insane or something." He moved a little closer to Dean, unconsciously, the healer in him wanting to help, somehow.

Stranger: "I could see you as a popular person in school," Sherlock said, looking up at John and noticing he had gotten closer. "You're very cute... Smart... Brave..." Sherlock chuckled to himself. "Everything I wasn't."

You: "It takes a brave man to work for Mycroft," John argued, finishing his tea. "Especially to fight a war for a man you don't know." He put the cup on the coffee table and turned to face Dean. Lacing his hands in his lap, John continued, "Besides, you're smart and handsome as well."

Stranger: "It's all a job, something I had to train myself to do... For you, everything is natural. And I am in no way handsome," Sherlock couldn't help but blush slightly. "And Mycroft, well, I'd rather deal with him than anyone back in college. He's livable. And I knew I liked you, so I had to protect you."

You: "I'm surprised Mycroft is easier to deal with," John said frankly. "Whenever I have to deal with him, I always get the feeling I've lost some sort of battle. Though how could you know you liked me if you'd never met me when you first took the job?"

Stranger: "Mycroft showed me a picture before he asked me to help," Sherlock said slowly. "He told me about you. Told me what you've done. When I saw you, I thought you were cute, then when he told me about you... I don't know, you sounded amazing."

You: "I think that's giving me a bit more credit than I deserve, but I won't argue," John said, shaking his head. "I'm just glad you did take the job and it's over now." He moved a bit closer, hand still on Dean's shoulder. The other man hadn't shrugged him off, barely even seemed to notice it, and John decided he liked touching Dean.

Stranger: Sherlock turned his head to look at John more when he moved closer. He couldn't help but smile a little and shifted closer himself. "I'm glad I took the job too. I got to meet you and everything, so I think it turned out pretty well."

You: "It did, I have to admit," John said, nodding. "I'm glad to have met you as well." Ruthlessly shoving aside the voice that told him to stop, John leaned forward and brushed his lips over Dean's. The same thrill ran over his skin as they met.

Stranger: Sherlock waited till John pulled back just slightly before he caught his lips again and ran his hand over to the back of John's neck. He kept the kiss soft and light, not wanting to overwhelm John, but his body burned for more.

You: John couldn't stop the small sound in his throat this time as Dean kissed him again. The hand on Dean's shoulder slid around to the back of his neck, tangling in his hair. John nipped at his bottom lip, taking the kiss to something darker than it had been.

Stranger: As he felt John's teeth graze his bottom lip, Sherlock's eyes rolled into the back of his head as John took the kiss farther. His fingers gripped at John's neck, pulling him closer and Sherlock moved slightly closer on the couch to where John was. Their thighs touched and Sherlock wrapped his free hand around to John's waist.

You: John mirrored Dean's movement, wrapping his other hand around his waist and pulling him close. Running his tongue along Dean's bottom lip, John waited until the other man's lips parted. When they did, he dipped his tongue in delicately, just tasting and teasing.

Stranger: Sherlock moaned softly as John's tongue entered his mouth, and he moved his to John's eagerly. As he tongue touched John's, he felt John's move to mess with his and started panting as John sucked his tongue into his mouth and closed his lips around it, sucking on it. He couldn't believe how great of a kisser John really was.

You: John moved even closer to Dean, their legs melded together at every point. He deepened the kiss, turning it rougher and a little more demanding. He could feel Dean respond, could feel the eagerness rising in both of them as they kissed.

Stranger: Sherlock took a chance and leaned back down against the couch arm. He pulled John down with him slowly, making sure never to let their kiss break. He settle down and let John settle his weight over him.

You: John smiled a bit against Dean's lips, shifting so that he rested comfortably on the other man. He leaned back a bit, breaking their kiss, and trailed down to Dean's neck. There, he sucked gently on the pulse point.

Stranger: Sherlock hissed as John's lips connected with his neck. He rolled his head back so John could have more room, and ran his hands down to where John's hip bone was, resting his hands against it.

You: John took the open invitation and kissed and sucked a path around Dean's neck. He moved down and bit on the edge of his collarbone, raising a small red mark. Running a hand up Dean's chest, John looked up and smiled. "I can feel your ribs," John said, gently chiding. "You should eat more."

Stranger: "I eat enough," Sherlock chuckled. "It's all the running and moving my job makes me do that keeps me like this."

You: John slid his hand back down Dean's chest slowly, feeling each muscle and rib. When he reached the hem of his shirt, John slipped underneath it and pressed gently at the skin. Leaning down, he captured Dean's lips again as he moved his hand back up his chest.

Stranger: Sherlock felt John's fingers trailing up his chest and kissed John deeper, more like a need than a want. He ran his hands up John's back then down again, resting them gently on John's ass.

You: John shifted again as Dean's hands trailed down his back and rested. He could feel definite interest on both their sides, the slight friction of shifting causing him to suck in a sharp breath. Suddenly, his fingers grazed over a raised scar on Dean's abdomen, just under his heart. "What's this?" he asked, tracing it gently with a finger. A niggling sense of recognition gnawed at him about it.

Stranger: "Scar," Sherlock hissed. "I have a few from my job. No big deal." He shifted his hips slightly in hope John wouldn't think too much about the scar. Although John had only seen him shirtless a few times to patch him up, Sherlock couldn't help the thought that John might remember them.

You: "Feels like a knife wound," John murmured, still tracing the raised skin. "Whoever stitched it had excellent technique. It must have been deep to leave this kind of scar."

Stranger: "Very," Sherlock nodded. "It almost killed me. I was found and taken to a hospital just in time."

You: "That's good," John mused. "I'm glad you survived. Though... you know what? Never mind. It's not important."

Stranger: "Alright," Sherlock growled slightly, pulling John back down to him and kissing him deeply, shifting his hips slightly again.

You: John groaned at the contact, moving his hips back against Dean's. He nipped at the other man's bottom lip again before swiping his tongue over the bite. He was so involved in the kissing that he almost didn't hear the insistent beeping from a phone.

Stranger: Sherlock flinched slightly, knowing Mycroft's double beep for text messages on his phone. He knew Mycroft had cameras in the flat for when Sherlock had first faked his death, but were they still in here? He reached down between them and turned his phone on to vibrate so it wouldn't bother them and slipped it back in without John noticing.

You: "What was that?" John asked a little breathlessly. He could see that Dean's lips were red and slightly puffy, evidence of their kisses. That made a warmth blossom in John's chest and he leaned down to press a light kiss to Dean's lips before he answered.

Stranger: "Nothing," Sherlock whispered, leaning up to pull John back into a breathless kiss. "Ignore it."

You: "What if it was important?" John persisted, pushing himself up with his arms anchored on either side of Dean's torso. "What if it was your job?"

Stranger: "It's not," Sherlock promised as he wrapped his arms around John's chest and pulled him slightly to come back down to him. "My day is free and it wasn't Mycroft's beep. Nothing is important right now but you."

You: John allowed himself to be pulled back down, resting his weight on Dean again. He buried his nose in the crook of his neck, taking in the scent of mint and something cold. Slipping his other hand under Dean's shirt, John rucked it up until it was bunched under Dean's arms. "If you're sure," he said, placing kisses on the side of Dean's neck.

Stranger: "Positive," Sherlock muttered back, moving his head to the side to let John have more room. He ran his hands down from John's back to his lower back and ran his fingers under his shirt, smiling as he felt John's warm skin.

You: "That feels good," John murmured, his back arching into Dean's touch. He moved back up to kiss Dean again, sucking on his tongue and wrapping his own around it. John's fingers pressed deftly at the skin over Dean's sternum, causing goosebumps to rise.

Stranger: "John," Sherlock whispered in a slight moan. He rolled the other man's shirt up to his chest and started to play with his semi-hard nipples, rolling one between his fingers.

You: "Dean," John whispered back, his eyes closing in pleasure. He rested his head on Dean's shoulder just enjoying the feeling. After a few moments, he returned the favor, gently tweaking one nipple between two fingers. At another insistent beeping, John felt like screaming. "That one's mine," he said.

Stranger: "Do you really need to get it?" Sherlock pouted, trying to hold John down as he went to suck on John's neck, nibbling on it as he sucked.

You: "I probably should at least check the text," John murmured, his head tilting to the side to allow Dean more room. "One of my friends is sick and even though I'm not one now, I was a doctor once."

Stranger: Sherlock sighed and let go of John's neck, not finished with the only slightly red bump. "Fine, but hurry, I want to finish this," Sherlock muttered, running a finger over the red spot.

You: John chuckled, the sound warm and dark as he got up from the couch. He let his fingers brush over Dean's shoulder as he did so. Moving quickly to the desk that his phone was resting on, John read over the text.  
John, I need your help. Greg is sleeping and I am not able to keep him awake for more than a few minutes. I don't think this is a normal pneumonia case. Can you please come over? - MH

Stranger: Sherlock watched as John sighed heavily and stood up himself. "Something the matter?" he asked as he moved over to John and wrapped his arms around John's waist, going back to sucking on that spot.

You: "Yeah, my friend is apparently very sick," John said, leaning his head back against Dean's shoulder. "He isn't able to stay awake and his fiance is worried. I'm afraid I need to leave and check on him."

Stranger: "Can I at least finish this mark? I want to know you're mine," Sherlock smirked and muttered against the skin, licking over the irritation.

You: "When was that decided?" John asked playfully, slanting a look up at Dean.

Stranger: "Well, not officially, just it's nice to pretend," Sherlock chuckled back, nipping his neck again.

You: "All right, as long as I get to return the favor," John said, turning in Dean's arms and kissing him again.

Stranger: "Which part? Pretending or give me a mark as well, because I thought you already did that," Sherlock laughed against John's lips.

You: "Marking you," John replied, smiling up at Dean. "I think, with how this has been going, we can agree to at least try, yes?" He didn't wait for an answer, just leaned up and sucked on Dean's pulse point again, far less gently.

Stranger: "Try?" Sherlock asked before he hissed in pleasure. "D-do you mean..."

You: "Less talking, Dean," John admonished before going back to his neck. He bit at the red mark there, making it darker.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and sat down in the desk chair, pulling John down to sit on his lap. He rolled his head back to let John have more room as he smiled.

You: John pressed close to Dean, one hand tangling in his hair again to hold his head back. He sucked at the mark he'd made, moving his tongue over it in sweeping strokes. John pulled back to look at it and was pleased at the red mark. He moved over to the other side of Dean's neck and sucked a similar mark there.

Stranger: "Oh my..." Sherlock moaned, his eyes fluttering closed. "John... God, John... You're... You're so per-perfect..."

You: "I like that I can make you stutter like that," John murmured, pressing a final kiss to the mark over Dean's pulse. "I think it's your turn now, right?"

Stranger: "Y-yes," Sherlock nodded, moving to stand and lifting John with him before setting him in the chair to sit in his lap, moving his lips over John's neck lightly, trying to find the right spot.

You: John was surprised at the sheer strength Dean exhibited, lifting him up to switch their positions. He forgot the thought, though, as he felt Dean's lips against his neck. Groaning, John tilted his head back and brought his arms up to wrap around Dean's waist.

Stranger: Sherlock found the pulse in John's neck and began to nip at it lightly, just grazing the skin. "You like it here?" he asked with a smirk.

You: "Yes, though you're a tease," John replied, smiling back at him. "You don't have to be so gentle."

Stranger: "No problem," Sherlock smiled before he bit down hard to John's neck and started working the skin between his teeth. He ran his tongue over the skin and continued to work it.

You: "Oh... oh god," John murmured, squeezing his arms around Dean's waist and moving his hips automatically. "Don't... don't stop... please."

Stranger: "Don't stop moving your hips," Sherlock growled, biting on the skin harder and sucking on it. "I love the friction."

You: "Yeah, can do that," John replied breathlessly. He moved his hands down to Dean's hips, rubbing circles onto the skin through the fabric. Moving more smoothly, John bucked hard into Dean and groaned again.

Stranger: "Damn," Sherlock moaned, sucking on John's neck and grinding down into his movements. "I like you a lot, John."

You: "Feeling's mutual," John replied, panting heavily. Wanting to feel Dean's skin again, John slipped his fingers into the waistband of his pants, splaying over the sides of Dean's hips. "Harder," he whispered.

Stranger: Sherlock hissed as John's fingers slid under his waistband and he bucked down. He sucked on his neck harder and kissed the spot after pulling away and he was satisfied with what he saw. He began to grind down on him harder, his head dropping onto John's shoulder as he panted heavily. Noticing the growing bulge in John's pants, he panted, "I know you have to get to your friend... But... I can't let you go... Out like that."

You: John laughed again, one hand shifting to rest against Dean's abdomen. "No, not a good idea," he agreed. "Nor can I let you go like that." He undid the button on Dean's pants and slipped his hand inside, resting on the soft skin above Dean's groin. "Think we can do something about it?"

Stranger: "I don't think we have a choice," Sherlock smirked back and went to grind down on John. "How do you want to go about this?"

You: "How about you sit up a little bit so I can get rid of a few layers between us?" John suggested, leaning up to suck at one of the red marks on Dean's neck again.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded breathlessly and sat up a little. He watched as John's eyes scanned his body before he did the same to John.

You: "You're gorgeous," John breathed before undoing Dean's pants the rest of the way and sliding them down a bit. He did the same to his own and pulled Dean back down to him so that they were connected skin to skin. "How's that?" John asked, wrapping his hand around both of them.

Stranger: Sherlock hissed and laid his head down on John's shoulder. He couldn't find words in his foggy brain and only nodded against John's warm shoulder. Sitting up a little, he lifted John's shirt again in hope John would lift his arms and let Sherlock discard the item.

You: John licked at Dean's neck again before taking the hint and raising his arms. His shirt flew off into the room and Dean's soon followed. Then, John wrapped his fingers around them again, stroking slowly at first.

Stranger: Sherlock smiled as his shirt came off and he was able to press his chest into John's. He liked the feel of skin on skin. Slowly, he went down to take on of John's nipples in between his lips and started working it with his tongue.

You:John groaned again, his head falling back against the back of the chair. He moved his hand faster, adding more pressure as he did. "Dean," he murmured, his hips bucking up against the other man's. "God, keep doing that."

Stranger: Sherlock finished with the first one, making sure it was hard and erect before he moved over to the next one. He worked that one slower, more teasingly.

You: Leaning back up, John captured Dean's lips again and plunged his tongue inside his mouth. His free hand wrapped around his neck, tangling in the hair at the back of his neck. Matching the strokes of his tongue to his hand, John could feel warmth pooling in his belly.

Stranger: Sherlock moaned as John brought him closer. "Your hand... feels so good... around me..." Sherlock panted breathlessly, his eyes rolling back into his head. "D-don't stop... John... Don't s-stop..."

You: "Not going to," John replied, kissing down Dean's jaw and moving back to his neck. He stroked faster, harder, and groaned as Dean moved against him.

Stranger: Sherlock bucked into John's hand and moaned loudly. "Can... can I t-take you?" Sherlock asked slowly, his heart beating and himself getting close.

You: "What?" John asked, looking up into Dean's eyes. "What do.... you mean?" His hand didn't stop moving and before Dean could answer, John felt his orgasm burst out of him, coating both of their hands in warmth.

Stranger: "N-never mind," Sherlock sighed as he took his own hand and started to work himself as John stopped. "I-I'll just finish..."

You: John tilted his head at Dean, a little confused at the resignation in the other man's voice. "Hey, you don't have to push me away," John said, placing his hand over Dean's. He slowed the pace a little bit, drawing out the pleasure in each stroke.

Stranger: "Th-thanks," Sherlock moaned, taking his hand away and just letting John work him. He took both his hands and placed them behind John's neck, pulling him into a rough kiss.

You: John moaned into the kiss, wrapping his tongue around Dean's. He moved faster, increasing the pressure of his fingers. He could feel Dean pump harder into his hips and moved with him. "Come for me," John whispered against his lips.

Stranger: "G-God..." Sherlock moaned as he dropped his head from the kiss. He threw his head back, his eyes closed as he came and yelled, "John!"

You: John smiled as Dean came over his hand, leaning forward to nip at his collarbone again. "Good," John murmured. "God, you're just gorgeous like this."

Stranger: Sherlock smiled, still panting, and looked down as himself. He looked down at John's and noticed how much of a mess they had made of him. Dropping to his knees on the floor, he moved between John's legs and looked up at him through his lashes.

You: "What are you doing?" John asked, running his fingers through Dean's hair. He leaned forward and kissed him again, less rough this time.

Stranger: Sherlock pulled away from the kiss after a few minutes before he leaned forward and flickered his tongue across John's member. He looked up at John again, waiting to see if he could continue.

You: John nodded, working to keep from jumping at the sensitivity. He watched as Dean's tongue flicked out again, touching gently to his skin before licking a stripe up his skin.

Stranger: Sherlock moved around John's member slowly, cleaning it with long swipes of his tongue. As he finished, he moved down to John's balls and slowly started to clean them.

You: "God, Dean, oh my god," John muttered, his mind stuck on a loop of those words. He leaned back in the chair and shifted forward, giving the other man more access to his skin. "That feels so good."

Stranger: Sherlock sucked one into his mouth and moved his tongue around it, cleaning it before he did the same with the other. He chuckled as John moaned and made all the cute little noises that drove Sherlock insane.

You: "I really... need... to go," John panted as he felt himself start to harden again. "Much as I would... love to stay... with you."

Stranger: "I know... I'm sorry," Sherlock whispered, letting go and kissing the inside of John's leg before rocking back onto his heels. "Can I see you... in six months?"

You: "Yes," John replied simply, leaning forward and pulling Dean into his arms for a tight hug. "Stay safe. I want to see you back here."

Stranger: Sherlock leaned into the hug and kissed the side of John's cheek. "I love you," he whispered quietly.

You: "How can you?" John asked, just as quietly. "You barely know me."

Stranger: "You don't need to know someone to love them, John," Sherlock whispered. He pulled back and kissed John gently on the lips.

You: John kissed him back for a moment, keeping the kiss light, and then sighed. "I can't say it back. I need more time to determine if I feel that for you," he said, sadness in his voice. Without waiting for a response, he stood up slowly and headed for the stairwell, needing to change before heading to Mycroft's flat.

Stranger: Sherlock dressed slowly as he watched John go up the stairs. When he finished, he was alone. He didn't know if he should wait for John to come back down or not, so he headed for the door. "Goodbye, John," Sherlock muttered before he closed the door behind him sadly and started down the stairs.

You: John cleaned himself up, remembering the touch of Dean's tongue, then changed quickly. He wasn't sure if he wanted to see Dean downstairs or not, but when he got there, the flat was empty. He typed out a quick message to Mycroft on his phone before heading out to flag down a cab.

Stranger: Mycroft paced the flat as he waited for John. He nervously looked at Greg, who he hadn't been able to wake up for the past two hours. He jumped as he heard the knock on the door and quickly went over to open it.

You: "Sorry it took me so long," John said, nodding at Mycroft but giving no further explanation. "Have you been able to wake Greg yet?"

Stranger: "No," Mycroft shook his head, waving John inside. "At first he would wake up for only a few minutes then go back to sleep. Now he won't wake up at all..."

You: John walked into the flat and stopped in the entryway. "Where is he?" he asked, starting to take off his coat. "And has his fever gotten any higher?"

Stranger: "Living room," Mycroft said, taking John's coat from him and hanging it up with shaking hands. "And I wouldn't know... I didn't take it."

You: John nodded again, walking towards the living room. "Did he get a prescription from the doctor? Has he taken anything yet?" John asked. When he got into the living room, he saw Lestrade tossing and turning feverishly in the pull-out couch, his face red and sweaty.

Stranger: "Yes, he had a few," Mycroft said, worriedly watching Greg thrash around. "And he told me to give him something to drink every thirty minutes... I haven't been able to do that since I can't wake him up."

You: John rested his hand on Lestrade's forehead checking his temperature. It seemed dangerously high, but John couldn't be sure. "Bring me a thermometer, I need to check to see what his fever is at," John said. He looked over the medications and saw that they were the typical ones prescribed for pneumonia. "Why are you getting worse, Greg?" John muttered, annoyed.

Stranger: Mycroft returned with a thermometer and handed it to John. He was having trouble keeping his composure as he watched Greg toss and turn. "Will he be okay?" he found himself asking, squeezing one of his hands tightly with the other.

You: "I hope so," John replied, taking the thermometer and holding it between Lestrade's lips. He had to hold his head so the thermometer would stay in place. Once it beeped, John saw that the numbers read 104. "You should take him to the hospital," John said. "His temperature is too high. I don't think this is just pneumonia."

Stranger: Mycroft sighed and looked at Greg with even more worry sketched onto his face. "Fuck," he cursed before he moved over to take Greg's hand. It was hot and shaky and he couldn't help but squeeze it tighter. "Can you call in for us?" he asked John as Mycroft took a seat on the bed. "I don't think I'm... calm enough... to explain this..."

You: John nodded and took out his phone to call an ambulance. He explained quickly and hung up, reassured that they would be here soon. "We'll figure this out," John said, trying to calm Mycroft. "Don't worry."

Stranger: "This is the second time he'll be in the hospital in a month, how can I relax knowing something's wrong with him?" Mycroft muttered, running a free hand through Greg's damp hair. He watched Greg sadly as he flinched at Mycroft's touch. "What if it's serious enough that he doesn't make it?"

You: "You can't think like that," John replied, getting up to look out the window. The ambulance probably wouldn't come with sirens on, since this wasn't really a life-threatening emergency. "He'll be fine, we just need to figure out what's wrong."

Stranger: "I know," Mycroft sighed, petting Greg's hair slowly and lovingly. "I'm just worried... I don't want to lose him..."

You: John turned away from the window as the ambulance pulled up, sending Mycroft a reassuring smile before going to open the door. The paramedics came in and checked over Lestrade before putting him on the stretcher and wheeling him out.

Stranger: Mycroft followed behind the paramedics as they took Greg out to the waiting ambulance. "I'm going to head over to the hospital with them," Mycroft said, reaching inside the door and taking his keys and wallet. "Do you wish to come?"

You: "I can," John said, nodding. "It might help if you weren't alone." John shrugged into his coat and walked outside to get into Mycroft's car.

Stranger: "I agree, thank you, John," Mycroft forced a smile as John got in and started after the ambulance. He couldn't help but bother his bottom lip as he drove and the silence fell around them.

You: John didn't say anything on the drive, watching the back of the ambulance as they went. Once they got to the hospital, John and Mycroft switched places so that Mycroft could follow Lestrade in while John parked.

Stranger: Mycroft followed Greg through the hallways, the whole time standing just next to him and holding his hand, making sure to stay out of the way from everyone else. He couldn't take his eyes off the man as they were moved into a room and Mycroft was gently pushed away.

You: John walked into the hospital to see Mycroft pacing a waiting room, a worried and exhausted look on his face. Taking his arm, John guided the other man to a seat and pushed him into it. "You need to calm down," John said quietly, taking a seat next to him. "Worrying yourself into exhaustion isn't going to help Greg."

Stranger: "I can't help it, John," Mycroft said slowly, shaking his head and chewing on his thumb nail. "He's my everything."

You: "I know that," John replied gently. "He'll be fine. It's probably just the pneumonia is worse, that's all."

Stranger: "I hope, that's treatable," Mycroft muttered. "What happens if it isn't though? What else could it be, John?"

You: "I don't know," John said, shaking his head. "There are so many things that might present with those symptoms. We just need to wait and see. And pneumonia is treatable, it just takes time."

Stranger: "I know," Mycroft nodded. "And thanks for being here. I know I'm overreacting."

You: "You have a right to," John said dryly, chuckling softly. "It's what family does." He patted Mycroft's shoulder and they waited, looking up at each doctor or nurse as they moved through the waiting room. Finally, one called out Mycroft's name.

Stranger: Mycroft stood as John stood up next to him and they moved over to the doctor. "Is he alright? What's happening?" Mycroft found himself asking, his voice painted in worry.

You: "He's all right at the moment," the doctor replied. "We've taken some blood and we're doing further tests. It looks like pneumonia but the lab work will tell us more."

Stranger: "Can I see him?" Mycroft asked as some of the worry left him at the news. "Can we see him?"

You: ""Yes, one person can go see him," the doctor replied, nodding. John stood and waved goodbye to Mycroft. "Call me if you need me," he said quietly.

Stranger: "Thanks," Mycroft said with a small smile before he followed the doctor back into the hallways. He was taken to a room and the doctor held the door for him as he stepped inside. Greg lay on a bed, asleep, and hooked up to a bunch of wires. He looked calmer, but Mycroft still worried.

You: John flagged down a cab to go back to his apartment, trying to think of things to keep himself busy. And his mind off what had happened not too much earlier. As he walked up the stairs, he could still see Dean sitting on the couch. Resolutely turning his back on the couch and the desk once he got into the flat, he turned to the kitchen to make tea. Then, he'd make more serious inroads on finding a publisher.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: Sherlock had his carry on slung over his shoulder and stood near the bag check in, waiting for Mycroft. His eyes scanned the crowded lazily as he waited until he spotted his brother. He ran a hand through his freshly dyed hair and went over to greet him. "Hey," he said as they reached each other.

You: "Good afternoon," Mycroft said, hiding a yawn behind his hand. He had dark circles around his eyes and his shoulders slumped a bit as he stood next to Sherlock. "You about ready for your case?"

Stranger: "Yeah, but what happened to you?" he asked as they started to walk through the crowed. "You look awful."

You: "I've been spending most of my time at the hospital," Mycroft replied, hiding another yawn. "He's doing better but he still hasn't been able to stay up for more than a few minutes at a time."

Stranger: "He's back in the hospital?" Sherlock asked, not hearing this news before. He shifted his backpack on his shoulder a little and started to slowly walk through the airport. "I'm sorry. What's wrong this time?"

You: "His fever spiked and he was having problems staying awake," Mycroft explained, walking with Sherlock. "I've been so busy with planning this and being at the hospital that I've run myself ragged."

Stranger: "Can John help you? Stay at the hospital and watch Greg while you get some sleep?" Sherlock asked as he easily moved through the crowed of people.

You: Mycroft shrugged and kept walking. "I don't really want to leave him and I can do most of my work on my phone," Mycroft explained. "I get enough sleep to keep me going. Remember, you are meeting with three agents in Russia and then four in Poland. Finally, one agent is in France."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and took out the folder Mycroft had given him earlier. "I have everything here. Is there much I should know?"

You: "Just remember the passwords for each agent," Mycroft said, nodding at the folder. "If you give the wrong password, they will kill you." The boarding call for Sherlock's plane sounded over the loudspeakers and Mycroft stopped at the chairs near the gate. "Good luck, little brother. Your name should be cleared by the time you return."

Stranger: "I hope it is before I return. Keep me updated on everything, especially John," Sherlock said as he started towards the gate. "And I wish Greg my best."

You: "Thank you. And speaking of John, care to explain what you were doing in the flat with him?" Mycroft asked, arching a knowing eyebrow at Sherlock. "I thought you understood it for the best to leave John be until you come back."

Stranger: "I just... he was willing... and I missed him so much that I couldn't-" The call was made over head for Sherlock's plane and he jumped slightly. "That's me, I have to go. Bye, Mycroft."

You: Mycroft just sighed and waved, knowing impulse control was one thing Sherlock had yet to completely master. "See you when you return," Mycroft said. "I'll keep you updated on the phone I gave you."

Stranger: "Thanks," Sherlock waved over his shoulder before he disappeared onto the plane. He found his seat and pulled out his phone.  
Leaving now, see you when I return, John. -Dean.

You: Have a safe flight, Dean. Let me know when you're back. - JW

Stranger: Will do. Keep me updated on what's up with you, will you? <3 -Dean

You: Of course. If you can, do the same for me? - JW

Stranger: I will as much as I can. -Dean

You: Thank you. Goodbye, Dean. - JW

Stranger: Goodbye, John. -Dean.

You: Mycroft waited until the plane had taken off, guaranteeing that Sherlock had left. He wouldn't have put it past his brother to sneak back off the plane. He'd done something similar before. Heading back to the hospital, Mycroft got a pleasant surprise when he saw Greg sitting up in bed eating lunch.

Stranger: "Hey," Lestrade whispered, his voice leaving him and his throat protesting saying even that much. "Missed you."

You: "You too, love. Good to see you awake," Mycroft replied, taking the seat next to the bed. "How long have you been awake?"

Stranger: "Ten... Twenty minutes," Lestrade muttered back, his throat scratchy with each word. "Hurts to talk though... can we write or something?"

You: "Of course," Mycroft replied, turning to the small dresser next to the bed. He found a pad of paper inside and pulled out a pen from his suit pocket, passing it over to Greg. "Has the doctor been in yet? Does he know what caused your exhaustion?"

Stranger: Lestrade took the pen and pulled the pad of paper closer. "No not yet," he wrote. "Nurse said he'll be in around five. So in about half an hour."

You: "Good, they haven't had much of an answer for me yet," Mycroft said darkly, glaring down at the floor. "I might think they have no idea what happened to you."

Stranger: "Possible. But it'll all be okay, love. Don't worry about me too much," Lestrade wrote down before taking Mycroft's hand in his.

You: Mycroft squeezed Greg's hand tightly then wove their fingers together. "As John reminded me a few days ago, it's my right as your family to worry," Mycroft said, smiling at Greg. "But I don't worry as much now. I'm glad you're awake again."

Stranger: "I am too. I feel loads better," Lestrade paused and smiled for a moment. "And I like the sound of you as my family."

You: "Good because you can't back out of it now," Mycroft laughed, leaning forward to press his lips to Greg's. They sat talking until five, when a quiet knock announced the doctor at the door.

Stranger: Lestrade's smile fell as the doctor walked in and he looked up at Mycroft. He gave Mycroft's hand a soft squeeze, seeing the worry on his face as well.

You: "Hello, I'm Dr. Nielson, I've been primary for Mr. Lestrade here," the doctor said, nodding at both men. He raised an eyebrow at Mycroft, clearly wondering if he had a right to listen to Lestrade's medical status. "Mycroft Holmes," Mycroft said. "I'm his fiance. Can you tell me what was wrong with him?"

Stranger: Dr. Nielson gave Lestrade a glance and he nodded, telling him that Mycroft wasn't lying. "Well, Mr. Holmes, honestly, we aren't quite sure what seem to be the issue. I doubt it's much to worry about for his life, but we still need to keep an eye on him and do more tests."

You: "Could it have been a complication from the coma he was in before the pneumonia?" Mycroft persisted, not liking the evasion the doctor was trying to do. "Or was it a complication of the pneumonia?"

Stranger: "It could be, yes," Dr. Nielson nodded. "But again, we need to run more tests and whatnot to see what really happened."

You: "What are the chances he'll be unable to wake up again if he goes back to sleep?" Mycroft asked, slanting a worried glance at Greg.

Stranger: "There is a very good chance we may see Mr. Lestrade here slip in and out of coma-like stages of sleep," De. Nielson said, looking at his charts. "But there isn't much we can do about that, sadly."

You: Mycroft sighed and looked at Greg, the worry etched on his face. "Thank you," he said softly, squeezing Greg's hand again. The doctor noted Greg's chart and left, presumably to get a nurse to take more blood work. "This is rather worrying."

Stranger: "I know baby, but we have no choice..." Lestrade said slowly, squeezing Mycroft's hand in return. "I look forward to coming home to you again, though."

You: Mycroft let a small smile cross his face and leaned forward to kiss Greg again. "You're supposed to be writing," he chided. "Save your throat. I saw Sherlock off today and, if Anthea is as good as she's proven to be, his name should be cleared in just a few months."

Stranger: Lestrade sighed and pulled the notepad closer again. "Well, that's good. How are you going to introduce him back into John's life?" he wrote quickly, his hand writing messy.

You: "I hadn't thought about it, to be honest," Mycroft admitted. "Your writing is atrocious, love. Is this a feature of all detective inspectors?" He brushed his lips over Greg's cheek, taking the sting out of the words and turning them into a joke.

Stranger: Lestrade put the pen down and crossed his arms, laughing lightly. "Not nice," he whispered, his throat painful.

You: "You should see my own writing," Mycroft replied, laughing with him. "Mine's horrible as well. It's why I choose to type or have Anthea write things for me. What do you think? How should we reintroduce Sherlock to John?" Mycroft wondered for a moment whether he should share the time Sherlock and John had spent together but decided to wait. No sense in possibly reopening old wounds for Greg.

Stranger: Lestrade picked up the pen after a half-hearted glare at Mycroft. "Well, I don't know really..." he wrote, making sure to take his time and try to make it look semi-nice, hearing Mycroft laugh above him as he traced out each letter. "Maybe, somehow get them together. I don't know. Does John know Dean?"

You: "Don't worry about your writing, love, I'm just teasing you," Mycroft said and sighed. This was going to be difficult. "Yes, John knows Dean. They've actually gone on a few dates. And spent some time together in John's flat."

Stranger: "Dates?" Lestrade asked in shock before the pain in his throat made him turn back to the pad. "Dates?" he wrote. "What do you mean dates? And what happened in the flat?"

You: Mycroft took a deep breath and scrubbed his other hand over his face. "John saw Sherlock at a coffee shop while Sherlock was watching your sniper. He introduced himself and they started talking. Apparently, Dean, as Sherlock called himself, reminded John of himself. They went out for coffee a few times and the last few became dates between them. Love, are you sure you want to hear everything?"

Stranger: "Yes," Lestrade wrote quickly. "John is my friend and I don't want him getting hurt by Sherlock. Or Dean... or whoever he is. Just tell me."

You: For once, Mycroft thought over his words and discarded several options. He wanted to tell Greg as gently as possible, knowing how the man cared for John. "John seemed to be moving on from the memory he holds of Sherlock," Mycroft finally said. "He and the man he thought of as Dean slept together."

Stranger: Lestrade raised an eyebrow up at Mycroft, his mouth dropping open. "Really?" he wrote. "John slept with someone else? Did he seem happy? Did you >watch?!"

You: "No, I didn't watch it," Mycroft snorted. "I saw them kissing and tried to get both of them out of there. Sherlock had agreed to keep his distance from John so that the poor man wasn't as confused when Sherlock came back." He studied Greg then but didn't see anything other than curiosity on his face. "You all right with that?"

Stranger: "So how do you know they slept together?" he wrote. "How do you know they didn't just kiss some more? Tell me, baby. Did you watch your brother have sex?"

You: l"No, I didn't," Mycroft said, shaking his head. "I had other people reviewing the footage and they informed me of what happened. That's something I'd prefer not to see. Plus, I know Sherlock and I know he doesn't like to deny himself things."

Stranger: "So you had... spies... watch your brother have sex?" Lestrade wrote out, giving Mycroft a weird look. "That's worse..."

You: "That wasn't the point of it," Mycroft replied. "I wanted to keep an eye on John after he tried to kill himself. I promised Sherlock I would not let it happen again. The fact that the cameras caught them... was not my intent. I tried to get him out of there as soon as I saw where they were heading. After it failed, I stopped watching."

Stranger: "That's still wrong that you got it on tape... That was personal to John," Lestrade frowned as he wrote.

You: "And it's going to remain personal," Mycroft said, staring at Greg with a serious look on his face. "I ordered the tapes erased."

Stranger: Lestrade just shook his head and wrapped an arm around Mycroft's waist. "Tired..." he mumbled, laying down slightly. "Sleep with me?"

You: Mycroft slipped into the bed carefully, pulling Greg close to him. "I think you going to sleep is going to worry me for a long time, Greg," he murmured, brushing a kiss over his forehead. "I'll stay with you, go to sleep, love."

Stranger: "Love you," he whispered, his eyes closing as he felt the warmth of Mycroft's chest against his back.

You: Mycroft watched as Greg fell into a light sleep, still wondering if he should have said anything. It was too late to do anything about it now so he contented himself with watching Greg sleep. And hoping he would wake up.

Stranger: Lestrade slept for a few hours before he started to dream. He was halfway to waking up and could feel an arm around him. He couldn't tell who it was and started to toss and turn, fearing it was something from the nightmare he had been having a few minutes before. He heard a voice but couldn't tell who it was or what it was saying.

You: "Greg wake up," Mycroft said urgently, watching Greg toss and turn in his arms. "It's a nightmare, you need to wake up now." He kept repeating the words until Greg opened his eyes, looking up at him in a panic. "You're ok now."

Stranger: Lestrade slowly opened his eyes, taking a few seconds to recognize who had him before he curled up into his chest. "I'm sorry," he muttered, his throat still painful and dry. "Water?"

You: Mycroft sat up to reach for the water, holding the cup so that Greg could drink from it. "It's all right, Greg," Mycroft said when he was done. "It was a nightmare. Something from one of your cases?"

Stranger: "I don't... Even remember..." he muttered, it not so painful now. "All I knew is something had me and I couldn't get away. I'm just glad it was you..." Lestrade set the cup down and wrapped his arms around Mycroft's middle as he lay back down.

You: "I'm always going to be here," Mycroft replied, running his fingers through Greg's hair. He pressed his lips to Greg's, keeping the kiss soft. "Do you want to sleep more?"

Stranger: "I do, but I don't..." Lestrade said slowly. "I feel tired, but I want to stay with you."

You: Hugging Greg tighter, Mycroft rested his head on his shoulder. "Then stay awake with me," he whispered. "We can do anything you like. It's late and the nurses cut their rounds back to every half hour or so."

Stranger: "What I'd love..." Lestrade whispered. "Is for you to kiss me and make me forget everything. I hate hospitals..."

You: "I can do that, love," Mycroft murmured, one hand coming up to rest on Greg's cheek. Mycroft leaned down and nipped gently at his lips, placing kisses in the corner's of Greg's mouth. His hand slid down to rest in the hollow of Greg's throat, the pads of his fingers rubbing at the muscle under his skin.

Stranger: Lestrade brought one hand up to Mycroft's hair, tugging gently and his other wrapping around Mycroft's chest. He wanted Mycroft close. He wanted to feel the warmth and drown out the cold hate of the hospital.

You: Mycroft shifted so he was resting partially on Greg, his other arm snaking underneath him and wrapping around his waist. Taking the kiss a little deeper, Mycroft swept his tongue over Greg's lips until they opened. He teased at the edge of his lips, making darting licks into his mouth.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled Mycroft fully onto him, settling his weight down and digging his nails into Mycroft's hips. He needed the closeness and moaned as Mycroft's tongue started to dance with his own in light, arousing circles.

You: Smiling slightly against Greg's lips, Mycroft sealed his own to them and pressed his tongue inside. He teased at Greg's tongue while gently scraping his nails over Greg's neck. Sliding the other man's legs apart slightly, Mycroft settled between them and held onto Greg tightly. "Is this what you wanted?" he murmured, voice hoarse, breaking the kiss for a moment.

Stranger: "Don't stop," Lestrade said before crashing their lips back together and kissing Mycroft harder, sucking at the other man's lower lip. He couldn't help as Mycroft's body shifted over his slightly hard erection but to buck up into Mycroft's legs.

You: Mycroft kissed back roughly, plunging his tongue into Greg's mouth and claiming him. He stroked down Greg's chest and rested his hand on his hip, gripping tightly. "Easy, love," he murmured, pulling back again and pressing down on Greg's hip. "The rounds start again soon."

Stranger: "You said they... Just ended?" Greg said, panting slightly as he bucked lightly again. "I'm sorry... I need to forget where I am..."

You: "The nurses make rounds every half hour late at night, Greg," Mycroft laughed, leaning down to nibble at his lower lip. " It's been about twenty minutes since the last one. Trust me, love. You'll forget. Just be patient."

Stranger: "I want you..." Lestrade growled before he bucked again. He couldn't help it, he just needed his boyfriend so close to him that he could feel warm all over. "Those damn nurses better hurry up and do their shift before I figure I really don't... Don't... Don't..." Lestrade started to trail off and a yawn overtook him. "Damn it," he yawned.

You: Stifling the worry he automatically felt, Mycroft captured Greg's lips again. He held them together for several seconds, his fingers stroking Greg's hip through the hospital gown. "They'll be here soon," he said soothingly. "And I'm not going anywhere if you need to sleep." He shifted to the side, tucking himself in close to Greg and brushing his hand over his forehead.

Stranger: "I'm sorry..." Lestrade muttered as he pulled Mycroft closer and tucked his head under his chin. "I don't want to sleep anymore. I want to stay up with you."

You: Mycroft smiled gently then, hand still stroking Greg's forehead soothingly. "I know, love," he whispered. "But you need to recover and sleep is your best option for that."

Stranger: "I know..." Lestrade yawned. "I just can't stand sleeping so much. I feel so useless. And like in just causing issues for you."

You: Mycroft leaned forward to press a chaste kiss to Greg's lips, smiling as he did so. "You're not useless, Greg," he soothed him. "I like caring for you and you should enjoy your sleep now. Once you're back to work, you'll probably be pulling all-nighters again on cases." As he finished speaking, a nurse came in and silently went through the routine of checking the machines and noting the chart.

Stranger: Lestrade nodded and curled closer to Mycroft. His eyes got heavier until he was asleep against Mycroft's chest, breathing evenly and enjoying the warmth.

You: Mycroft watched him for about another hour, nodding at the nurse as she came in twice more. Finally, he fell asleep, wrapped carefully around Greg. 

\-----------------------------------------------------

Stranger: John moved up to the desk that sat in the office of the publishers office. "Hi, I'm looking for Mr. Thompkin's office. Can you point me in the right direction?" he asked.

You: The secretary gave him a generic smile and pointed down the hallway to her right. "Second door on the left," she explained helpfully. "Would you be Mr. Watson?"

Stranger: "Yes, that's me," John smiled as he looked down to where she was pointing. "Thank you so much. Is he in his office, do you know?"

You: "He is, yes," the secretary replied. "He's waiting on your appointment. Good luck." She nodded one last time before turning her eyes back to the computer screen and typing industriously on the computer.

Stranger: John nodded back and slowly made his way to the office. He went to the second door and knocked on it lightly, standing back and waiting for the muffled voice to come through the door, calling him in. He pushed the door open slightly and placed a smile on his face.

You: "Hello," Mr. Thompkin said, waving at John. "You would be John Watson, here about your book, right? Come take a seat." He completed the gesture by waving at the chair in front of his desk.

Stranger: "Yes, hi, it's nice to meet you, Mr. Thompkin," John smiled, holding his hand out to the man to shake before he sat down in the chair offered to him. "Thank you for letting me come."

You: "Of course," he replied, sitting back in his chair. "My reviewers read your book and gave me some glowing reports. So I read the first chapter myself. I have to admit, I was hooked. You're characters are so real."

Stranger: "Thank you," John said, a nervous chuckle escaping his lips. "I'm glad you liked it."

You: "I did," Thompkin replied, smiling. "But I have to ask, where did you get the idea for the case and the characters? I felt as if I could find them just walking down to my favorite cafe."

Stranger: "Well... Sir..." John stopped for a moment and bothered his bottom lip. "My best friend had killed himself just about three years ago. He was a consulting detective and I... well, I sort of followed him on cases and such, helping out as much as I could. He is who I based the whole book after. For his memory, you know."

You: Thompkin nodded, a serious expression sliding onto his face. "I'm sorry about your loss," he said. "It must have been fascinating, helping a private detective. And I would like to publish your book, after my editing experts take a look, of course."

Stranger: "You would? That would be great! I mean, thank you, so much!" John smiled and chuckled a little. "Thank you!"

You: Thompkin smiled back, enjoying this part of his job immensely. It was when he had to write out letters to hopeful authors rejecting their work that he hated his job. "You still have some hard work ahead of you," he warned. "After my editors look at your book, you'll probably have revisions and rewrites to do. That will happen a few times until everyone is satisfied. Then your book will be published and you may have signings and things to help promote it."

Stranger: "I'm willing to do the work," John nodded, the smile on his face not faltering at the news. "I have all the time in the world to put into this book and I'm ready to do it."

You: "Good," Thompkin said, leaning forward to shake John's hand again. "Congratulations, Mr. Watson, in a short time you will be a published author."

Stranger: "Thank you so much, Mr. Thompkin. Really, this is all an honor!" John said, shaking the man's hand before standing.

You: "You're very welcome," Thompkin replied, smiling a little wider. He definitely loved this part. "Expect a call in a few weeks about the edits on your book."

Stranger: "Awesome, thank you," John said again before he said goodbye to Mr. Thompkin and started for the exit. He made it outside the building and pulled his phone out at once. He had to tell someone and his figures dialed the first name that came to mind. As he raised the phone to his ear, a voice answered. "Hey, Dean," John said excitedly.

You: "Hello, John," Sherlock replied, his lips curving into a smile at John's voice. "You sound happy. Something up?" He leaned back into the pillows he'd heaped up against the headboard of the bed, glancing around the hotel room as he did so. He'd been here a day already and was bored out of his mind.

Stranger: "I just got told that I'm going to be published. The publisher liked my novel and told me that we'd start the process," John said happily, deciding to walk home instead of taking a cab so he could talk to Dean easier.

You: "That's wonderful, John!" Sherlock exclaimed, a warm bubble of happiness forming in his chest. He'd really liked the story when Mycroft had sent it to him and still reread it whenever he was missing John acutely. "What's it about?"

Stranger: "It's about this guy named Gabriel Tollen who basically solves murder mysteries," John said, unsure of how to really tell him what it was about without spending a few hours talking. "I'll just have to send you the draft if you want?"

You: "That would be great," Sherlock replied, crossing his legs underneath him. There was no way he could tell John he had already read it without revealing how he got the story. Or who he really was. "What made you decide to write mysteries?"

Stranger: "My best friend, the one that died," John said slowly. "He was who I based the main character around."

You: "I see," Sherlock said thoughtfully. "So you wrote it in his memory?" He wasn't quite sure how he felt about that but it did make his chest clench tightly. Then Sherlock wondered what John would say when he revealed himself to be alive. Would he regret writing the book? Putting his heart into the pages?

Stranger: "Yeah, I did. I loved him... and this was my way of getting close to him again," John muttered, thinking about the characters. What would Sherlock say if he were alive? Dull. Boring. Idiotic. John didn't want to think about it. He cringed at the thought of Sherlock even seeing the draft but pushed it away, knowing it was impossible. Sherlock was dead. End of story.

You: "I think it was a good idea," Sherlock replied, another smile crossing his lips. He checked the time and sighed as he realized he needed to leave to check in with the first undercover agent. "Can I call you again later? Duty calls."

Stranger: "Alright," John said, checking his watch and sighing. "I miss you, so much." he muttered the words quietly and was unsure if Dean even heard them.

You: "I miss you too, John, more than I can express," Sherlock whispered back, unable to hide the pain in his words. He could only hope the quiet tone helped disguise the pain. "Talk to you soon."

Stranger: "Dean..?" John asked slowly, hearing the slight pain in his words. "A-are you okay?" He paused on the sidewalk and stepped over to the side, pressing the phone closer to his ear.

You: "Yes and no, John," Sherlock replied, a quiet, self-deprecating laugh escaping him. "It's a long story, but I'd like to tell it to you when I get back. If you want to hear it."

Stranger: "Why can't you tell me now?" John asked, confusion threading his voice. "Is something wrong?"

You: "No, there isn't John," Sherlock said quickly, a small smile reappearing on his face. Not anymore. "It's just something I want to tell you face to face."

Stranger: "As long as you're sure," John said slowly. "I can't wait to see you again. Do you have to stay for six months? That seems so long."

You: "I'll try to make it shorter," Sherlock said, chuckling dryly. "Though Mycroft seems to believe it's going to take the full six months. It may be fun to try and prove him wrong."

Stranger: John chuckled lightly and ignored the thought of Sherlock thinking the same thing. "That it would," John said, nodding to himself and starting to walk along the street again. "You'll have to tell me when you're flying back. Maybe I can meet you at the airport?"

You: "I would like that," Sherlock murmured, getting up off the bed and shrugging awkwardly into his coat. It was cold in Russia. "I'll call you as soon as I know when I'll be back. But I really have to go now. Talk to you soon, John?"

Stranger: "Call me whenever you can," John smiled, sighing lightly. "Bye, Dean."

You: "Goodbye, John," Sherlock said quietly and hung up the phone. He tucked it carefully into the pocket of his jeans, missing his expertly tailored suits. Though, until he was back, he may as well keep wearing the disguises. Wrapping himself up in a scarf and hat, he walked out to meet the first of the undercover agents.

Stranger: John slipped the phone into his pocket and sighed again. He couldn't believe how much he actually missed Dean. It might be that he looked and reminded him so much of Sherlock that Dean became a reminder of the memories he had of the genius man, or maybe, just maybe, he really was falling for the new friend. John wasn't sure which it really was, but he did know that he felt something for Dean. He just couldn't call it love, not yet.

You: Sherlock stomped through snow-covered streets, his breath puffing out in white, fluffy clouds. The agent was working with a human smuggling ring operating out of Moscow and thus, lived in one of the seedier parts. He reached a nondescript door, knocking on it. When a small peephole slid open, he muttered, "Ptitsa letit" or 'the bird flies'. The peephole closed and the door opened.

Stranger: Megan stepped back to let the man in. Was this really the man that Mycroft had told her about? He looked like nothing - no muscle, no form; just a stick in a coat. "Are you Sherlock Holmes?" she asked, her heavy Russian accent making her words run slightly together.

You: "I am," Sherlock said shortly, nodding as he walked further into the room. The place was just a studio apartment, small and cramped. "And you would be Megan Roslowski?"

Stranger: "That I am," she nodded, moving to the other side of the room. "I trust you got here safely, and with no one trailing you?"

You: "Of course," Sherlock snapped, rolling his eyes. "You think I would have knocked if I had a tail? So, report or whatever it is you do for Mycroft."

Stranger: Megan sighed and turned back to Sherlock, the annoyance clear on her face through her thick lashes. "He warned me about your... temper," she growled smoothly, bearing teeth as she ground out the final word. She moved over to him, her heels clicking against the cold, hard ground, and handed him a folder. "I trust you know what to do?"

You: "With this? Yes," Sherlock said, rolling his eyes yet again. Mycroft had warned her, huh? "He wants you to stay in with the smugglers for a little longer. According to his other sources, there's a boss that you haven't had any contact with yet."

Stranger: "When shall I meet him?" Megan asked, moving back across the room and away from Sherlock. She really hated dealing with people like him. Arrogant.

You: "Like I know?" Sherlock replied rhetorically. "Mycroft said that you should be brought further into the syndicate soon, but when is all up to you. It's your job after all."

Stranger: Megan growled and turned on her heel to glare at Sherlock. "Just because I need you to deliver that folder doesn't mean I'm afraid to kill you and just get someone else to do it, which I can and will do."

You: Sherlock laughed loudly at that, one hand clamping to his stomach. "You... you think... you can kill me?" he wheezed out between laughs. "Better people than you have tried and failed. So, if we're done here?"

Stranger: Please, I don't like to get my hands dirty," she snickered and snapped her fingers, to where two red dots were shown on Sherlock at once, men stepping out of the other room holding guns, both aimed at Sherlock. "These two will do that bit for me."

You: Sherlock sneered at the two gunmen, eyes flicking over the guns. They were semi-automatics, a common enough type for crime rings. However, that was a point in his favor. The studio was small enough that he could bolt out the door or the window and put Megan in their line of fire. "You really don't want to do that," Sherlock said softly, a few seconds later. "I'm sure Mycroft doesn't want to lose an operative."

Stranger: "You really think I give a damn about what Mycroft wants?" Megan growled, the two men stepping forward. "And before you tell us, Mr. Holmes, we know we can't shoot these in here. Guys?" At her words, they both pulled machetes from their belts and lowered the guns. "We have this all covered here, Mr. Holmes. I suggest you leave, before I change my mind on letting you."

You: With an ironic little bow, Sherlock stepped back to the door, shifting his eyes among the three people in the room. When he hit it, he reached behind and opened it, letting in a blast of cold air. "Pleasure," he said sarcastically before darting out and closing the door. He proceeded to run back through the streets, taking random turns down alleyways and slowly circling towards his hotel. When he knew he wasn't being followed, Sherlock pulled out his phone and typed a quick text to Mycroft.  
Megan Roslowski turned. Recommend removing her and trying to place another agent. - SH

Stranger: Mycroft heard his phone beep in his pocket and dug it out, trying not to shift too much and wake Greg. He read the message over and sighed.  
Noted. Will have a new agent in there in a day's time. Did you get what you need? -MH

You: I got the folder she gave me. Don't know what's in it as I had to run for my life. From the expense of the watch and jewelry she's wearing, she's been turned for a while. You may want to go over any reports she's given you in the last year. - SH

Stranger: Thank you little brother. Will get Anthea right on it. Are you alright? -MH

You: Yes, I made it away safely. I can only hope the next few agents I meet with aren't as... interesting as Megan was. - SH

Stranger: Did she tell you anything else? -MH

You: Nothing verbally but her body language spoke volumes. Whoever is in charge of the smuggling ring seems to trust her. The muscle she had took each of her directions quickly and without question. You may have two bosses now to deal with. - SH

Stranger: Great. Well, get going on the rest little brother. -MH

You: Your wish, my command, oh great big brother. - SH

Stranger: Shut up. -MH

You: Sherlock grinned to himself as he slipped his phone back into his pocket. It was definitely more fun needling Mycroft when they were on better terms. He worked his way back to the hotel, planning on meeting the next operative tomorrow. Hopefully, he wouldn't be as dangerous.

Stranger: Mycroft sighed and placed the phone back into his pocket. As he did, he heard Greg stir next to him. "Baby, do you want something to drink?" he asked as Greg's eyes met his sleepily. The hospital room was dark and Mycroft could just make out Greg's form, the lights in his room off, the door shut and the curtains drawn.

You: "No, thanks," Lestrade replied, blinking up at Mycroft. "How long was I asleep? Doesn't feel like long and it's still dark."

Stranger: "A few hours," Mycroft whispered, running his hand through Greg's hair. "It's about nine at night. Did you sleep okay?"

You: "I did, love," Lestrade nodded, leaning into the touch and pressing a kiss to Mycroft's cheek. "I'm not feeling so tired anymore. Maybe we can go home."

Stranger: "I'd love to, but that's not up to me," Mycroft chuckled, returning the kiss to the cheek.

You: "Then I need to talk the doctor in letting me go," Lestrade sighed, settling back into his pillows. "How hard can it be? I've talked murderers into confessing in the past."

Stranger: "But this is about your health, love," Mycroft frowned. "If he says no, don't push, please."

You: Lestrade sighed again, rolling his eyes. "I hate hospitals," he muttered, glaring around the room. "I spend way too much time in them from doing my job. I just want to go home."

Stranger: "I understand that, love," Mycroft said, his frown deepening. "But promise me you won't beg, and if he says no, you'll stay?"

You: Lestrade looked up at Mycroft, worry clear in his eyes. He didn't often see emotion so clearly on the other man's face, had learned to read the little ticks and movements Mycroft made. And though this was the last place he wanted to be, that made the decision easy. "I promise, Mycroft," Lestrade said softly, raising his hand and cupping Mycroft's cheek. "I won't do anything to risk my health. Again."

Stranger: "Thank you, baby," Mycroft whispered, pulling Greg closer to him. "I just don't want you getting worse or have something happen to you. I can't lose you baby."

You: "I know, Mycroft," Lestrade sighed, looking up as a nurse walked in quietly. "Hey, can I see the doctor anytime soon?" Lestrade asked her as she checked the machines again.

Stranger: "Of course," the nurse said, looking up from her clipboard. "Is something the matter?"

You: "I just want to know if they've figured out what's wrong with me," Lestrade explained, rolling his eyes again. "And I want to go home. If I'm just sleeping, since I can feel my fever's broken, I think I can do it at home just as easily."

Stranger: "Well, we haven't figured it out one-hundred percent, but the doctor noted here to keep you at least for another week, if not two," the nurse read off. "I agree with you, but it's what the doctor says."

You: "Can I talk to him?" Lestrade asked again. "There really is no point to keeping me here." He could feel Mycroft shifting uncomfortably beside him, wanting to argue with him. But really, a week maybe two? He was going to go out of his mind staying here that long.

Stranger: "I'll get him in here, but don't get your hopes up too high on talking him out of it," the nurse said, closing the packet of papers on her clipboard. "He ordered that last night, so I doubt he'll change his mind.

You: "Why?" Lestrade asked. "Is there something in the tests he's found? It doesn't make any sense to keep me here if I'm not in any danger."

Stranger: "It's because we haven't found anything in the tests," the nurse sighed. "It worries him and he doesn't want to send you home only for you to have a problem. I'm sure your partner there would agree?"

You: "I would," Mycroft replied, nodding. He didn't know a lot about medicine but not finding anything at all was troubling. "I don't want to go through the same scare I went through last time, Greg."

Stranger: "You see, Mr. Lestrade?" the nurse said slowly. "I'm sorry, but it's what the doctor wants. It's what everyone thinks is best."

You: Lestrade grumbled a bit, shooting a small glare at Mycroft before nodding. "Fine," he muttered and watched as the nurse walked out. "Mycroft, really, you think here is the best place for me to be?"

Stranger: "Greg, please don't get upset," Mycroft said slowly, trying to take Greg's hand. "It's only what's best for you..."

You: "That I have no say in?" Greg asked angrily, his voice rising. He sat up, pulling away from Mycroft and balancing on the edge of the bed. "I know you're worried, love, but I think I'm ok now. If they haven't found anything yet, I doubt they will."

Stranger: "Please, lay back down, Greg," Mycroft said, standing and moving around to the front of Greg. "I know you're mad, but you don't know what's wrong with you. What if something happens to you tomorrow and I can't get you here on time?"

You: "What can really happen, Mycroft?" Lestrade snapped, stubbornly staying right where he was. "I was asleep! Not dying."

Stranger: Mycroft frowned down at Greg for a few minutes before shaking his head and sitting down in the chair next to the bed. "I can't stop you," he said slowly, looking away from Greg. "I'm only trying to do what I think is best for you, but you don't seem to care about that. If you want to leave, go ahead, hail a cab, go home. But I'm not signing any papers or covering you."

You: Fighting the urge to roll his eyes, Lestrade sighed again. And at this rate, he was going to hyperventilate. "Mycroft, that's not what I mean and you know it," he finally said, forcing his voice to remain calm. "I just want to leave here. However, I will wait and talk to the doctor."

Stranger: "Whatever you want," Mycroft said, still not meeting Greg's eyes, his voice hard and emotionless. He remained in the chair and just looked around the room lazily.

You: Lestrade just shook his head, sleepiness flooding up again. He turned away from Mycroft and settled back down into the blankets, closing his eyes and breathing evenly. After a few minutes, he had fallen asleep again.

Stranger: Mycroft sat there and watched Greg sleep for a few hours before sleep started to claim him around midnight. He closed his eyes and leaned back in the chair, letting sleep take him in the cold room.

\-----------------------------------------------------

You: A single ray of sunlight lay across Lestrade's face and woke him up in the morning. The ray was sliding through a lopsided blind and spearing into his eyes. He scrubbed a hand over his face, groaning quietly. Attention drawn by the clock he hadn't noticed before, Lestrade realized it was just after six AM. Mycroft was curled up in the chair next to the bed, looking oddly small and vulnerable. "Mycroft?" Lestrade whispered.

Stranger: Mycroft heard his name but didn't move. He was too tired and this was the first real sleep he had in a long time. So he ignored the voice and just curled farther into the chair.

You: "Mycroft, you awake?" Lestrade tried again, still quiet. If Mycroft was really sleeping deeply, he didn't want to wake him up. This was probably the first worry-free sleep he'd had. When there was no answer, he settled back down into the bed and stared at the ceiling, waiting for breakfast at seven.

Stranger: Mycroft laid there for a while, his eyes closed but himself not really sleeping. After about fifteen minutes, he moaned a, "What?" towards Greg, himself not moving.

You: Lestrade turned his head towards Mycroft, studying the man who was feigning sleep. "Are you actually awake?" he murmured, grimacing at the conversation he was sure was approaching.

Stranger: "Yes," Mycroft growled back. "What did you need?"

You: Lestrade sat up, lacing his fingers together over his stomach. Taking a deep breath, he said, "I'm sorry for getting angry with you last night. I know you're just trying to help."

Stranger: "Yeah," Mycroft yawned, stretching slightly before turning a little in the chair. He sat up more and looked at Greg through slitted eyes. "Is that all?"

You: "Um, I'm sorry for snapping," Lestrade replied. "But I'm not sorry for wanting to go home."

Stranger: "It's fine. Now, do you need something? Water?" Mycroft asked, waving it away.

You: "Sure, thank you," Lestrade said, a little confused about what Mycroft meant with that little hand-wave.

Stranger: Mycroft nodded, stood, yawned and started towards the door, going to the vending machine and buying Greg a bottle of water and himself one as well. He went back to Greg's room and undid the cap for him, handing over the bottle and retaking his seat. He quietly sipped from his bottle.

You: Lestrade drank deeply, draining about half of the bottle in one go. Once he was done, he sat studying Mycroft again. "I've offended you," he finally said, noting a small twitch in Mycroft's left eye.

Stranger: Mycroft lowered the bottle of water and capped it, turning his attention to Greg. He didn't say anything, just waited for Greg to go on. He studied his face as he waited.

You: "I've offended you, though I'm not sure of the exact reason," Lestrade said. "Either it's because I won't take your advice and stay here or you believe I don't care about you enough to not worry you. Which is it?"

Stranger: Mycroft shrugged slowly, setting his water bottle down. "I worry about you, Greg," Mycroft said slowly, avoiding his eyes. "I want what's best for you. I'm worried that you're going to hurt yourself if you leave early. I guess it's a bit of both..."

You: Lestrade held out his hand, reaching for Mycroft but letting him choose to close the distance or not. "I can understand that," he murmured. "I care about you, Mycroft, I love you. If you want me to stay here a bit longer, I can. And there may be something to me overdoing it; I've done it before on cases. Truce?"

Stranger: Mycroft looked at Greg for a few minutes before taking his hand and twisting their fingers together. "Truce. I love you," he whispered, a sad smile going across his lips.

You: Lestrade pulled gently on Mycroft's hand, making him lean over the bed. When he did and braced himself with one hand on the bed, Lestrade pressed his lips to Mycroft's. He sat back as a nurse came, a clipboard in hand. "Breakfast?" she asked, slanting a knowing look at both men.

Stranger: Mycroft sat up and blushed just slightly as Greg told the nurse his breakfast. The nurse left and Mycroft turned back to Greg, still slightly red. "Oops," he chuckled.

You: Lestrade laughed as well, feeling the tension snap in the room. "That's all right," he said, pulling Mycroft in for another kiss. "I don't mind people knowing you're mine."

Stranger: "As long as you don't," Mycroft chuckled and needingly kissed Greg again. "I missed you."

You: "Yeah, so why don't you come back here?" Lestrade asked slyly, punctuating the question with a tug on Mycroft's hand. "We can share breakfast."

Stranger: "No, you need to eat," Mycroft said as he slid into the bed. "I can get something from downstairs later."

You: Lestrade didn't argue, just wrapped his arms around Mycroft and held him. Burying his head in the crook of Mycroft's neck, Lestrade inhaled and was soothed by the scent of his fiance. They stayed like that for half an hour, until another nurse brought in the breakfast Lestrade had asked for.

Stranger: Mycroft watched Greg eat and they chatted slightly, mostly about little things. He told him about Sherlock's encounter with Megan and the DI just listened quietly until the end.

You: "Good thing he got away safely," Lestrade remarked, swallowing down a last piece of toast. "John would probably shoot you if he died now."

Stranger: Mycroft chuckled dryly. "If I decided to tell him how it all happened, and even then John might just kill me after I told him Sherlock was alive the past three years."

You: "Speaking of, have you thought about how you're going to tell him Sherlock's been alive the past three years?" Lestrade asked, slanting an amused smile at Mycroft.

Stranger: Mycroft shook his head slowly. "Nah," he muttered. "I haven't... John's got a good shot," he chuckled dryly.

You: "Yes he does," Lestrade agreed, remembering the patterns John had made in the shooting range. "I've seen him shoot and I would not want to be on the other side of the gun."

Stranger: "Nor would I..." Mycroft said slowly. "So that makes this even more difficult."

You: "You could always just step back and let Sherlock tell him," Lestrade suggested. "They seem to be doing all right on their own." He arched an eyebrow at Mycroft, struggling to keep the grin off his face.

Stranger: "I don't know..." Mycroft muttered. "Maybe he should be with me though?"

You: "You really want to be in the middle if John starts throwing punches?" Lestrade asked, letting the grin break out across his face.

Stranger: "Would he?" Mycroft asked. "Than maybe not... I just don't know how else to do it."

You: "Would you be willing to listen to a suggestion?" Lestrade said, turning to place a kiss on Mycroft's cheek. "Call John and tell him to meet you somewhere because you want to introduce him to someone. Then have Sherlock be there and they can deal with it."

Stranger: "That sounds like a smart idea..." Mycroft said slowly. "Maybe I can make an excuse to leave and just let them sort it out in my office."

You: ""As long as it's somewhere soundproof," Lestrade answered dryly. He finished up the last bit of his breakfast and took a drink of orange juice. Handing the cup to Mycroft, he watched with a small smile as he drank. "Glad to share," he joked.

Stranger: "Shush," Mycroft chuckled and handed the cup back. "But yes, my office is soundproof. So they can scream all they want and if the door is closed, no one can hear them."

You: The doctor knocked on the door then, walking in and smiling at the two men. "Hello," he greeted them. "I think I have some good news for you."

Stranger: Mycroft sat up more and looked at the doctor. "Yes?"

You: "My suspicions were unfounded," Dr. Nielson said, picking up Lestrade's chart and flipping through it. "I've been running a lot of tests, expecting to find some underlying disease, but nothing has come up. And since Mr. Lestrade has been better since his fever broke, I have to conclude he had a particularly virulent form of pneumonia. The fluid filling his lungs would have made it harder to get oxygen which caused him to sleep for long periods of time."

Stranger: "So what does all that mean?" Lestrade asked, his hopes going up and his hand finding Mycroft's under the blanket.

You: "I want to keep you here for observation for another few days," Dr. Nielson said, taking out a pen and noting the chart. "Pneumonia after a coma is rather dangerous. But after that, you should be able to go home."

Stranger: "That's great to hear," Mycroft smiled down at Greg, who, himself, was smiling lightly. "Thank you." Mycroft watched as the doctor nodded and left before turning to Greg. "See? You'll be home soon."

You: "Good, I can't wait," Lestrade said, squeezing Mycroft's hand and smiling widely. "I have some plans for what I want to do when we get home."

Stranger: "Oh? Mind sharing?" Mycroft chuckled, kissing Greg softly on the lips.

You: "Anticipation is half the fun, love," Lestrade replied, his smile turning wicked. "I know you have a... creative imagination. Put it to use."

Stranger: Mycroft smiled and leaned down to kiss Greg again. "I love you," he whispered, barely breaking the kiss before taking his lips again.

You: "I love you," Lestrade murmured, leaning back just enough to speak. Then he pressed forward again and lost himself in the sensations Mycroft was causing.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: Sherlock sat back against the wall in his hotel room, his feet stretched out in front of him and his hands playing around with a small rubber ball. He had to wait for Mycroft to tell him the next part of the mission was ready to go. It had been about a week since he had dealt with Megan and now he had to just wait.

You: John had just gotten the first set of edits and revision suggestions back from the publisher and was sitting at his computer, goggling at the amount that had been highlighted. Seriously, didn't they like anything of what he'd written? With a sigh, he got to work, slowly going through the pages.

Stranger: Sherlock tossed the ball against the bed and watched it roll away. Not really in the mood to get up and get it, he pulled his phone out of his pocket and dialed John's number.

You: John looked up from page twenty of his book, a mild headache already pounding behind his eyes. If he'd known exactly what editing would entail, he would have run screaming. The phone sat beside his computer, beeping and buzzing repeatedly. He smiled when he saw Dean's name on the ID. "Hey, how are you?" he asked, answering with a smile.

Stranger: "Hey! I'm alive, you know," Sherlock chuckled. "What about yourself?"

You: "Alive and about to explode," John replied dryly, glaring at his computer screen. "I'm editing my book and the people that do this for a living? I swear red is their favorite color."

Stranger: Sherlock laughed loudly, the warm sound filling the quiet hotel room. "I'm sorry. But you're a writer now, this is what you have to deal with for the rest of your life."

You: "Yeah, I know. Doesn't make it any easier," John said. "So, how is wherever you are?"

Stranger: "Wherever I am is nice... Cold though," Sherlock said jokingly. "I've basically been off for a week, waiting for Mycroft. This is why I'll be here six months. I doubt it's a lot of work, but Mycroft isn't feeding the information the way he should be."

You: "Well, I don't know if you've talked to him lately, but Greg finally got out of the hospital," John explained, saving the document he'd been working on and closing his computer. "They've been holed up in the flat for the past couple days. The whole thing was just pneumonia complicated by his coma, I guess."

Stranger: "Three guesses on what they're doing in there," Sherlock said dryly, a smile creeping on his face. "I'm glad he's out though."

You: "Yeah, don't really need three guesses," John said sarcastically. "And I am too. Mycroft was going a little crazy with worry from what I saw. So, still thinking you can get back before six months?"

Stranger: "Maybe, if Mycroft comes out of his flat and his boyfriend..." Sherlock stopped, the thought sending chills down his spine. "I doubt."

You: John sighed, the happiness that had flared when he saw Dean's name dying down a bit. "That sucks," he said bluntly. "I was hoping to see you before then. Though, I could email you my book to keep you busy. If you still wanted to read it."

Stranger: "Yes, please do!" Sherlock said at once. "I'll text you my email after we hang up."

You: "Perfect," John replied, rolling his eyes at his computer again. "I'll spare you the editors words and just send you the original. You would not believe some of the things they think should be added."

Stranger: "Can you give me an example?" Sherlock asked, not being able to imagine what they may say.

You: John thought back over the first twenty pages, unable to help the third eyeroll in about ten minutes. "All right, the first major one is they don't want it set in the time I've set it," he explained. "Something about "this is too far in the future to appeal to a mass audience" or something like that. It's a bit wordy."

Stranger: "But doesn't the novel's basic story line have to do with being in that time period? Wouldn't changing it mean basically re-writing the whole book?" Sherlock asked, shocked.

You: "Yeah, pretty much," John admitted, sending another scathing glare at his computer. "Which is why I'm not going to do it. It's my book and it's set exactly when and where I want it."

Stranger: "Will the editors allow that?" he asked, running a hand through his hair.

You: "I hope so. If they don't, I might just find another publisher," John said and then hesitated. How much did he feel comfortable telling? "The time is important for me," he finally said, voice softer.

Stranger: "Well, I hope things go well with you on that," Sherlock said. He heard John's voice drop. "You all right?"

You: John smiled again, hearing the concern in Dean's voice. "Yeah, I'm ok," he said. "This book is just... it's a lot and I don't want it changed too much."

Stranger: "Well, if you talk to them and explain, I'm sure they'll let you keep it mostly the way it is," Sherlock said slowly. "I hope so, at least, for your sake."

You: "Well, from what I understand, these are suggestions," John said, moving slowly through the room. Something about talking with Dean made him want to move, want to run. "So I'm going to take them with a grain of salt and go through my book. If they don't like it, that's that."

Stranger: "That's right. You can always find another publisher. I'm sure your writing is amazing," Sherlock smiled, remembering the book. "Besides, your beautiful face will make anyone do what you want." He couldn't help the bit of flirting.

You: John snorted disbelievingly at that. "Beautiful, really?" he asked, shaking his head. "I think that's the first time anyone's called me that."

Stranger: "Really now?" Sherlock asked, fake surprised mixed with sarcasm toning his voice. "Now that's just wrong! Why? Do you not like it?"

You: "It's odd, Dean, that's all," John said, taking a moment to decide if he liked it or not. "Usually, I call the women I've been with beautiful. It's not a word I ever thought to hear someone say to me."

Stranger: "So you don't like it?" Sherlock said slowly with a light chuckle. "Well that sucks, 'cause you really are beautiful."

You: "I think I do," John replied, laughing back. He stopped pacing the room and sat down in his armchair, not sending his customary sad glance at Sherlock's. "Though now I want to think of something for you."

Stranger: "Oh? You don't have to. I mean, if you can't-" Sherlock cut himself off and laughed. "You're cute."

You: John laughed again, delighted that he had shocked Dean. "Now who's speechless," he teased. "Besides, I already have a name for you."

Stranger: "You do?" Sherlock asked slowly, the smile still on his face. "Can I hear it?"

You: John laughed again, warmth spreading out from his belly as he thought of the endearment he'd given Dean. And under the circumstances. "You've already heard it," he explained. "Last time you were here. Don't you remember?"

Stranger: Sherlock thought for a moment before smiling slightly. "Yes, but I want to hear it again," he cooed into the phone, the smile on his lips growing. He could only picture John doing the same.

You: John laughed again, the smile wide on his face, before saying, "You're gorgeous. I miss you." He tapped his fingers on the arm of his chair, eyes on the desk chair they'd shared last time.

Stranger: "I miss you too, love," he whispered, the smile unable to leave his lips. "I miss you so much."

You: "So can you tell me anything about what you're doing?" John asked, sidestepping love for the moment. He still hadn't decided if what he felt was love yet or not. "Maybe I can draw inspiration for another book."

Stranger: "Ugh," Sherlock groaned, rolling his eyes. "The first girl I had to meet with... pain. God, she threatened to kill me, nothing abnormal. Still, it was just... god..." Sherlock rolled his eyes again and sighed. "I hate when people call on their goons to take care of me... It's so overdone."

You: "I'm glad you obviously got out all right," John said, a bit alarmed. "But people threatening to kill you isn't unusual? What do you do when you're not working for Mycroft?"

Stranger: "Work for Lestrade, I imagine you know what kind of things you run into in that spot," Sherlock said with a dry chuckle. "It's always the same."

You: "I have to agree with that," John said wryly. "I've lost track of how many murderers or kidnappers or what-have-you I've chased down. Threats lose their punch when they get repeated. It still cold where you are?"

Stranger: "Yes, it really is," Sherlock nodded, even though he knew John couldn't see it. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the wall, the cool feeling relaxing him. "I believe we're called for snow here in about two weeks."

You: "It's snowed here in London, too," John replied, looking out the window at the still-falling snow. "It's caused no end of accidents. I don't understand why people can't drive as soon as it snows."

Stranger: "Because people are idiots," Sherlock sighed and ran a hand over his face. "You're not going out anytime soon, are you?"

You: John felt another chill run down his spine at Dean's first sentence. Really, this was just getting to be too much. John could stretch coincidence to heretofore unknown reaches, but now? "No, not today," John replied finally, shrugging. "I'd put the today and the next few days aside for editing."

Stranger: "Good, I don't want something to happen to you," Sherlock replied as he stood with a small groan. He went into the small kitchen in the flat and pulled down a cup, starting the kettle and leaning back against the counter while it warmed up. "I want to be able to come back and see you."

You: "Yes, that sounds like a plan," John replied, nodding though Dean couldn't see him. "Maybe then you could tell me what you and Mycroft have been keeping from me."

Stranger: "That all depends," Sherlock said at length. He sighed and closed his eyes. "But I've said too much as it is."

You: "How have you said too much?" John asked, confused. "You've barely told me anything as it is. Same with Mycroft. I'm used to secrets from a Holmes but why are you keeping this from me?"

Stranger: "Because, I work for a Holmes," Sherlock growled. He hated the thought of working for Mycroft. "That's why."

You: John sighed, suddenly tired of all the word games. "Maybe you should quit," he suggested. "No more time spent in wherever you are and you could come back."

Stranger: "It's... not that easy, John..." Sherlock said slowly as the kettle started to whistle. He took it off the stove and switched the stove off before continuing. "I have secrets of my own, which, if I quit, could turn deadly. And not only for me..."

You: "You have family?" John asked, trying to keep the question light. He heard the whistle over the phone and suddenly craved tea. He got up out of the chair, smiling that he still didn't limp, and started the water boiling in the kitchen.

Stranger: "Not much, but a small family, yes," Sherlock nodded. "But they aren't the ones in danger. Again, I've said too much... I don't want to worry you."

You: John shook his head; it was too late for that already. But he let it go, as he'd let so many things go recently. "So, most of the time we talk, I keep asking you questions. Is there anything you want to ask me?"

Stranger: "How are you?" Sherlock asked seriously. He was worried about John still, even after John had met "Dean." When he wasn't around to watch over John himself, he always worried he would do something extreme again.

You: "I'm doing well, just tired," John said, somewhat honestly. "I'm also frustrated with the edits."

Stranger: "I can understand that," Sherlock nodded. "And Lestrade? How is he?"

You: "Doing much better, last I heard," John said, laughing. "He managed to send me a text before he and Mycroft disappeared into their flat. But, like I told you, they haven't surfaced in a couple days."

Stranger: "Well, that's good," Sherlock said, letting a smile caress his lips. "I'm guessing you haven't heard from him since?"

You: "No and I'm not sure I really want to," John laughed, pouring hot water into his tea cup. He brought the steaming cup back to the chair and sat down, juggling the phone and cup awkwardly. "There are some things I'm far happier not hearing."

Stranger: "Very true," Sherlock laughed. He finished making his tea and sipped from it, leaning back against the counter. "Well, if you hear anything, will you let me know?"

You: "Sure. Why the interest?" John asked curiously. "I thought you and Greg weren't that close? And Mycroft was just your boss?"

Stranger: "Well, Lestrade is still a work friend, so it'd be nice to know he's okay," Sherlock shrugged, setting his mug down behind him.

You: John made a noncommittal noise, sipping at his still-steaming tea. "Fair enough. How about you? Any plans for today?"

Stranger: "Not really. I'm still waiting for Mycroft's word to take the next step forward," Sherlock said. "He's very slow."

You: "He should come up for air soon. He does have the British Government to run," John said sarcastically. He still thought it hilarious that Mycroft tried to deny his influence.

Stranger: "I sure hope so. I want to come back home..." Sherlock said slowly. "It's strange being here." Sherlock paused as his phone beeped, pulling it away from his ear to glance at the ID, he sighed heavily, seeing it was Mycroft. "John? I have to go in a minute here."

You: "Everything all right?" John asked, some concern leaking into his tone.

Stranger: "Yeah, yeah, just Mycroft," Sherlock waved it off, annoyance toning his sigh. "Finally decided to come out of the covers I guess."

You: "Yeah, sure, go do your job," John replied, laughing. "Remind Mycroft that not everyone needs forever to do what needs to be done. Bye, Dean."

Stranger: "Bye, John," Sherlock answered, letting the caring tone caress his voice. He switched the call over to Mycroft. "Hey, finally decide to call huh?"

You: "I've had other things occupying my mind," Mycroft said archly. "It's time for you to seek out the second agent. He's safe right now, so I wouldn't waste any time."

Stranger: "By other things you mean-"

You: "Things that are not your concern," Mycroft replied, though the sentence didn't have any of the usual heat in it. "Be careful, Sherlock. I don't need you dying now. Imagine the paperwork."

Stranger: "I'm glad that's your greatest concern," Sherlock growled dryly.

You: "Having some problems taking a joke, dear brother?" Mycroft asked, chuckling into the phone. He looked over his shoulder at a nudge on it, seeing Greg's smiling face. "After you meet with the second agent, you can go on to the third whenever you are ready. She's placed safely no matter when you approach her."

Stranger: "How many will I be meeting with?" Sherlock asked, letting the annoyance flow away and pushing it off. He didn't want to deal with his brother at the moment.

You: "These two are the last in Russia then you are off to Poland. I have four agents there and then one more in France," Mycroft said. "Call me when you are ready to go to Poland and I will set up a flight for you."

Stranger: "Alright," Sherlock said. "Give me two or three days. I doubt I'll need any more time than that."

You: "Good, good," Mycroft said, running one hand down Greg's arm. "Good luck, little brother. Goodbye."

Stranger: "Goodbye," Sherlock said as he heard Mycroft start to kiss Lestrade before hanging up the phone. Sherlock grimaced at the phone for a moment then slipped it into his pocket, shaking his head and trying to forget the sound.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------------

You: It was almost midnight by the time Jonathan Akers was able to get back to the modest apartment he was renting as part of his cover. He'd been alerted about a week ago that there would be another person checking in on him for the report he was writing. Jonathan could only hope that whoever it was would be around tomorrow and not tonight.

Stranger: Sherlock moved over to the flat building that stood in the middle of the street. All the lights were out in the shops surrounding it and Sherlock was basically surrounded in darkness. He moved up to the door and pushed it open, his hands in his pockets to protect them against the harsh weather. He made his way up the stairs to the tenth floor and knocked on door number 1063. He stood back and waited.

You: Jonathan grumbled as he glared at the door, the blue light from his television flickering over his face. With a small groan, he climbed to his feet and walked to the door to open it. "Yes?" he asked belligerently.

Stranger: "Jonathan Akers?" Sherlock asked slowly, his face emotionless. He looked the man over, his dark hair and light green eyes standing out against his gray t-shirt and baggy jeans. "I'm Sherlock. Sherlock Holmes."

You: "Sorry, who?" Jonathan asked, suspicious at the lack of passphrase. "Am I supposed to know that name?"

Stranger: "No, but I believe you know Mycroft Holmes?" Sherlock asked as he shrugged his way into the flat, looking around with no clear interest. "I'm here on his work."

You: "Is that so? And can you prove this?" Jonathan asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

Stranger: "Call him if you wish," Sherlock shrugged and went over to the bookshelf, scanning over the books and huffing. "He'll prove it if that's what you need."

You: Jonathan rolled his eyes as he closed his door, turning to place his back against it in case he needed to run. "Wow, are you a new guy or what? Missing one key piece of introduction?"

Stranger: "Introduction? I'm here to get one report and I need an introduction? Mycroft told you I was coming, so why don't you just hand it over and I can leave," Sherlock huffed, rolling his eyes and turning to face Jonathan. "I need to get on to the next agent. I have very little time to finish all this."

You: Jonathan sighed and pulled out the gun tucked into the small of his back. He pointed it at Sherlock, his face tired. It was far too late for this. "If you really were from Mycroft, you would have a password to prove it," Jonathan said, fighting back a yawn. "As you don't, I'm afraid I'm going to have to shoot you and get rid of the body."

Stranger: Sherlock sighed and held up his hands. "I have the password. No need to shoot. It's Purple Lake." Sherlock rolled his eyes.

You: Lowering the gun, Jonathan studied Sherlock a bit further. He was reassured by the password, so put the gun away. "There, see?" he asked, crossing into his kitchen and pulling down a bottle of vodka and two glasses. "Now was that so hard?"

Stranger: "Tedious," he growled, following Jonathan into the kitchen and watching him with crossed arms. "I don't want to be here any more than you want me here."

You: Jonathan poured the vodka into the glasses, holding one out to Sherlock. He waited until the other man took it before picking up his own and downing the clear liquid. "And you wasted time by not giving the password up front," he shrugged. "What orders does Mycroft have for me?"

Stranger: "Hang low mostly," Sherlock shrugged. "And make sure not to let your man out of your sight. Otherwise, just stick around here." Sherlock watched as the man in front of his shook his head slightly and downed the rest of his drink before turning his back on Sherlock to pour another.

You: "So pretty much what I've been doing," Jonathan replied, sighing. "Lovely. Well, I've got a file for you to take back, let me just get it." He downed the glass again, smacking his lips lightly at the burn. Walking quickly, Jonathan went to his bedroom and dug through his dresser before pulling out a manilla envelope and bringing it back to Sherlock.

Stranger: "Thank you," Sherlock said taking the folder handed to him and setting his empty glass down on the counter. "Anything else I should know or have?"

You: "Not really, no," Jonathan said, fighting back another yawn. Not that the adrenaline had faded, all he wanted was to crawl back into bed. "Just that I really hope I get to leave soon. I'm tired of Moscow."

Stranger: "I can understand," Sherlock muttered, rolling his eyes. "I'm tired of this place too. It's just not... interesting."

You: "Exactly," Jonathan replied, nodding emphatically. "And there are only so many Russian drinking games that my liver can take. Did you know I hated vodka before coming here?"

Stranger: Sherlock laughed dryly. "I only drink it for the burn. Almost three years now, before then, I didn't need it."

You: "Lucky you," Jonathan said sarcastically. "All right, enough talk. We've both gotten what we need. Get out so I can sleep."

Stranger: Sherlock smirked and started towards the door. "My pleasure." He shut the door behind him and rolled his eyes. Moscow was getting even more boring and tedious then he could even think. He started back to his flat, the folder tucked securely under his arm.

You: Jonathan changed quickly and tumbled down onto his bed. "If that's what being Mycroft's brother is all about," he murmured. "He can keep it." With that, he fell sound asleep.

\------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: Sherlock woke up the next morning in his clothes from the night before. As he sat up on the edge of his bed, he scrubbed at his eyes with the palms of his hands. He checked his phone for any new messages, which there were none, before standing and going to the bathroom to shower. He dried off and changed into some new clothes, hoping to go out and find the next man he had to meet with.

You: Grant Meyers was sitting in his room, contemplating the file he'd put together for Mycroft. He knew another agent was supposed to be meeting him either today or tomorrow. He hoped it was today; there were only so many excuses he could come up with. He added one last detail and closed the file.

Stranger: Sherlock left the flat and moved down the streets of Moscow. He moved in strong strides as he made his way through the crowds of early morning. People pushed passed him and shoved their shoulders into his, but he only shoved his right back and kept walking, his head hung. He found the building he was looking for, the one of Grant Meyers and one of the last agents he had to deal with here in Moscow. He moved to the door and started up the stairs.

You: Grant heard footsteps outside his apartment and moved into the living room in case it happened to be the agent to see him. He was never unprepared, though, holding a gun loosely in his hand pointed at the ground. He wasn't surprised when there was a knock at the door. Opening it, he took in the stranger standing in the threshold.

Stranger: "Grant Meyers?" Sherlock asked as the man nodded, the gun being flexed in his fingers. "Gray Curtains."

You: Grant nodded and stepped back, placing the gun within easy reach on an endtable. "So, you're the one Mycroft sent?" he asked, waving a hand to invite Sherlock in.

Stranger: Sherlock stepped into the flat and looked around. "Yes. Name's Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock said over his shoulder.

You: "Holmes?" Grant repeated, moving back towards his bedroom to grab the file. "Any relation to Mycroft?"

Stranger: "Sadly. He's my elder brother," Sherlock said with a small smirk. He moved farther into the flat and looked at the bare walls and shelves.

You: "Well, here's the information he wanted," Grant said briskly, shoving the folder at Sherlock. "The drug lord decided he likes me, so he let me pretty far into the cartel."

Stranger: "I'll let Mycroft know, until then, stay around and try to find more out. My guess is Mycroft would want you to do that," Sherlock said, taking the folder.

You: "Yeah most likely," Grant replied, nodding. "Is there anything else you need to pass along to me?"

Stranger: "That's it," Sherlock muttered, flipping through the papers in the folder. "Anything you want me to pass on to Mycroft?"

You: "No, just that information thanks," Grant replied, holding out a hand for Sherlock to shake. "Nice to have met you."

Stranger: "And you," Sherlock said, taking the hand and shaking it. He moved to the door, Grant on his heels.

You: "Be careful out there," Grant warned as he opened the door. "Moscow can be dangerous. I don't need Mycroft breathing down my neck because one of his relations got himself killed."

Stranger: "Thanks," Sherlock said with a nod. "Will do." He turned to leave, glad at least one of the agents hadn't pointed a gun at him.

You: Grant shut the door and went back into his apartment to make breakfast. Now that the meeting was finished, he felt calmer. Time to get back into the game.

\------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: Sherlock unlocked the door to his flat after a walk the next morning. He needed the fresh air and just time to think, so he had went for a walk around the parts of Moscow he had yet to see. Just as the door snapped shut behind him, Sherlock's phone started to dance in his pocket. As he pulled it out, he saw Mycroft's name on the ID. "Hello?"

You: "Hello, Sherlock," Mycroft said, shuffling papers around on his desk. "How is your trip to Moscow?"

Stranger: "How don't get me started," Sherlock snapped. "Now what do you want, Mycroft? Can I come back yet?"

You: "Not just yet, no," Mycroft replied, finally finding the report he was looking for. "You still have those four agents to meet with in Poland and my agent in France. I would also like you to send the reports you've gotten so far to me."

Stranger: "Fine, how? By mail?" Sherlock asked, sitting on his bed and laying back till his head hit the pillows. He stared at the ceiling as he heard his brother mess with papers.

You: "Yes, by mail, Sherlock," Mycroft replied absently, shuffling through the papers for another report. "Have them sent to Anthea, you know the address for her. Now, I have your flight information to Poland. The plane leaves at noon tomorrow."

Stranger: "Alright, where am I supposed to be? Which airport?" Sherlock asked, hiding a yawn.

You: "Domodedovo International Airport," Mycroft replied, finally finding the last piece of paper he needed. "You can pick up your ticket under the name Dean Michaels."

Stranger: "Dean Michaels," Sherlock muttered, nodding. "Alright. How's clearing my name going?"

You: Mycroft sighed, eyeing the mountain of paperwork still on his desk. "Slow," he admitted. "There are a lot of things I need to do before getting it all to the media."

Stranger: Sherlock sighed and closed his eyes. "Is there any way to speed things up? I want to..." he paused for a moment, bothering his bottom lip. "I want to go back to John, either as Sherlock or as Dean..."

You: "I know that, Sherlock, and believe, I'm trying," Mycroft sighed. He decided to ignore the paper mountain for now; Anthea or one of his other aides could always sort it for him later. "John has mentioned that to me a few times as well. But Moriarty was efficient and thorough. It's going to take time."

Stranger: "How long?" Sherlock asked, scrubbing a hand over his eyes.

You: "I'm not sure yet," Mycroft answered, a heavy sigh escaping him. "I don't want to give you a time frame and be completely wrong. And, I could be wrong at how quickly this might go. Just be patient, little brother. John's waited this long, as have you."

Stranger: "It's a tease... It's so close it's a tease," Sherlock said deeply, growling.

You: Mycroft rubbed a hand over his face and yawned. Though it was early, he'd been in his office for several hours. "Be that as it may, you're still going to have to wait," Mycroft replied, keeping himself from snapping. "I will let you know as soon as you can come back. Have a safe flight, Sherlock."

Stranger: "I know, you're only doing what needs to be done..." Sherlock muttered, unsure if it was more to himself or to Mycroft. "Thank you."

You: "You're welcome," Mycroft replied. "I really do need to go, though. This paperwork won't deal with itself."

Stranger: "Alright," Sherlock nodded. "I'll call you when I land and get to the flat."

You: "Good, goodbye, Sherlock," Mycroft said.

Stranger: "Goodbye, Mycroft," Sherlock said before hanging up the phone. He sat up slightly and started to pull his bag towards him. He decided he should at least tell John he was going to another place and pulled up a new message.  
Hey, going to Poland. Finished up in Moscow. -Dean.

You: Sounds like fun. Mycroft say anything about when you might be finished? - JW

Stranger: Not for a while, sadly. -Dean.

You: Well, I know Mycroft can get just about anything done when he puts his mind to it. It'll be soon. - JW

Stranger: I hope so. How's things with the editing? -Dean.

You: Slow but I'm getting there. About halfway through now, thanks for asking. How are you doing? Still cold? - JW

Stranger: Freezing. I doubt it's ever warm here. -Dean.

You: I've got a warm flat waiting for you when you come back. Hope to see you soon. - JW

Stranger: That sounds nice. I hope to be back soon. -Dean.

You: So, can you tell me what you're doing, running around Russia and Poland? Or is that top secret? - JW

Stranger: I have to be general about it. But basically, I'm running information and getting files from Mycroft's workers here. -Dean.

You: Sounds a bit boring. Are you able to get any sightseeing done? I've always wanted to travel more than I did with the military. - JW

Stranger: Not except for the little bit of walking I do to get from place to place. -Dean.

You: Well, that's something to put on my list of things to do. Travel around a bit. Had you ever been to Russia before? - JW

Stranger:No, this is the first time. I may have came when I was a kid, but I don't remember, honestly. -Dean.

You: At least you got to visit it once. How about Poland? Ever been there? - JW

Stranger: No, I haven't. I don't travel much outside of London. -Dean

You: I travelled with the military, but that's about it. Oh, and conferences in Dublin. I really want to travel for myself though. - JW

Stranger: Does it have to be alone? -Dean.

You: Maybe, maybe not. Why? Volunteering to be my traveling buddy? - JW

Stranger: I want to be. -Dean

You: Sounds good to me. - JW

Stranger: I can't wait. -Dean

You: Neither can I. Though I actually do have to go now. Editing is waiting for me. Have a safe flight, Dean. - JW

Stranger: Thanks. I'll talk to you later, John. -Dean.  
Placing his phone on the bed next to him, Sherlock pulled his backpack closer and continued to pack. He shoved his clothes in the biggest pocket before going around the room and collecting the few other items he had. Throwing them in the direction of the bed as he went.

You: John sighed as he placed his phone on the desk next to his computer. He missed Dean, a lot, and hoped Mycroft would hurry everything up. Squaring his shoulders, John went back to his computer, prepared to duel with all the red edits the editors had put in his book.

Stranger: Sherlock finished packing and looked at the time. It was around seven in the afternoon as he placed his bag by the front door. Going to the bathroom and turning on the shower, Sherlock stepped into the warm stream and figured he'd turn in early.

\---------------------------------------------------

You: The next morning, Sherlock went to the airport and boarded the plane without incident. The flight was fairly quick and he landed in Poland in a few hours. Since Mycroft hadn't given him any time limits for this first agent, Sherlock decided to find him immediately. Shouldering his bag, Sherlock found the apartment the agent had rented and knocked on the door.

Stranger: Devin Garcia grimaced as he heard the knock on the door. He knew someone was to stop by in the next few days, but never thought it would be today. His boss had only texted him that the man he was supposed to meet would be flying in a few hours before. Standing with a slight groan, Devin started towards the door and looked out the little peephole. "What do you want?" he growled to the blond that stood outside his door.

You: Sherlock tilted his head, glaring at the door. "Apple blossom," he said, shaking his head. "Let me in already so we can get this over with."

Stranger: "Attitude," Devin muttered to himself before stepping back and unlocking the many locks that held his door. Opening the door and waving Sherlock in, he asked, "And a name?"

You: "Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock replied, studying the apartment. It was clean and a bit sparse, no knickknacks or personal items littering the place.

Stranger: "Came here for Mycroft Holmes, correct?" he asked as Sherlock nodded, still not looking at him. "Any relation?"

You: "Yes and yes," Sherlock replied, turning to study the agent. He saw that the man had just eaten and was extremely tired. Good thing he planned to make this quick. "Do you have the reports for him?"

Stranger: "Yeah, it's on that desk right over there," Devin muttered, waving at the desk next to Sherlock. "Just grab it and get out, will ya?"

You: "I can do that," Sherlock nodded, walking over to pick up the folder. "Have a good nap." He smirked and walked to the door, amused at the surprised look on the man's face.

Stranger: "Fuck you and get out," Devin growled as Sherlock started towards the door, himself towards the couch. "Don't let the door hit ya on the way out."

You: Sherlock waved sarcastically, closing the door behind him. He headed outside quickly, flagging down a passing cab and directing the driver to head to the nearest hotel.

\------------------------------------

Stranger: Mycroft sighed as his phone beeped the next day, the morning light peeking through the curtains. He sat up and looked over at Greg, who was still sound asleep. Reaching for the phone, he saw Devin's name flash across the screen and he read the text.  
Brother was a joy. Information handed off. -Devin.

You: Hope he wasn't too difficult. Thank you. - MH

Stranger: Just a pain in the ass. -Devin.

You: Imagine being his brother. Thank you for not shooting him or something. And keep on as you've been doing in that smuggling ring. - MH

Stranger: Wasn't easy, the gun was tempting. And sure thing. Text me if you need anything. -Devin.

You: Of course. - MH. Mycroft placed his phone back on the night table and turned back towards Greg to brush a kiss over his forehead. "I have to head into work, love," he murmured when Greg opened his eyes. "Call me if you feel sick again?"

Stranger: "Will do," Greg murmured, his eyes closing again but his face turning to face Mycroft. "Love you."

You: "I love you, too," Mycroft replied, smiling and kissing Greg again. He got up and dressed quickly, bypassing breakfast this morning in order to get in to work faster. Once there, he called Anthea into his office. "We need to start salvaging Sherlock's reputation," he explained.

Stranger: "What needs to be done, sir?" Anthea asked, sitting in the chair across from Mycroft and opening a notepad on her phone, beginning to type.

You: "First, I want to prove that Richard Brook was the fake. That should be fairly easy now that Moriarty is dead," Mycroft said, sitting back and steepling his hands over his desk. "Then, I want to work with Greg and prove that Sherlock was not involved in the cases he solved."

Stranger: "And how do you want to go about proving Richard Brook was fake?" Anthea asked slowly. "There are already so many debating sites that, if we're not careful, people may just think we are another couple of extreme Sherlock fans."

You: Mycroft thought about that for a few moments, working it out in his mind. "I think we need to find anything else on Richard Brook's life," he finally said. "All Sherlock mentioned was the CV of his work as The Storyteller."

Stranger: "If I'm remembering correctly, he mentioned what college it said he graduated from as well, as well as a background story of his life," she said as she typed more notes out on her phone. "But, sadly, sir, I remember none of it."

You: "Then get the file from Kitty Riley," Mycroft ordered, shuffling through some of the papers on his desk. "I don't want to listen to Sherlock hounding me to get this fixed, so I want to do this as quickly as possible."

Stranger: Anthea stood with a nod. "I will have it on your desk by tomorrow afternoon," Anthea promised before he headed to the door. Before she shut the door, she turned and asked, "Anything else sir?"

You: "No, nothing at the moment," Mycroft sighed. "I will let you know if I need anything." He shuffled the papers again, finding the large folder of cases that Sherlock had worked on with Greg. His first order of business was to prove that Sherlock had not been behind those cases. Mycroft's own reputation was unimpeachable, so he believed the superintendent would believe him.

\---------------------------------------

Stranger: "Sir, I have the file from Kitty Riley," Anthea said, poking her head in the door and holding out the folder. She pushed the door open all the way when Mycroft motioned her in and went to sit down in front of him. Opening the notepad from the day before.

You: "Excellent," Mycroft replied, yawning and closing the file he was working on. "I need you to do as much research on Richard Brook as you can. Also, try to find anything on James Moriarty. I have almost finished with the cases Sherlock worked on. We can bring this to the attention of the media and the police force hopefully in the next few days."

Stranger: "Sounds good, sir," Anthea said, pulling her folder close to her and opening to a blank page she had in there for handwritten notes. She began searching on her phone and jotting things down.

You: "Thank you for all this, by the way," Mycroft said suddenly, realizing how much work he was piling on her.

Stranger: "As always, sir, no problem," Anthea said, not pausing in her notes.

You: Mycroft nodded and went back to his file, hoping he could finish somewhat early today. He'd been working almost non-stop for the past day and a half. The sooner he could get this out to the media, the happier he would be.

\----------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: Sherlock jumped as a knock on his door sounded and went over to the door to look through the peephole. Who would be here now? As he looked out, he saw a taller man with short dark brown hair. "Yes?" he asked through the door.

You: "Sherlock Holmes?" the man asked, sliding his hand around to the back of his waistband to grab a gun.

Stranger: "Yes?" Sherlock asked, watching as the man messed with something behind his back. Gun. he thought at once and stepped to the side of the door and out of shooting range.

You: Getting the answer, the man took the gun out and levelled it at the door. He attached a silencer to it, grinning to himself. He put three shots through the door then listened, hoping to hear a body hitting the floor.

Stranger: What the Hell? Sherlock thought for a moment, then an idea came to him. He fell to the floor, hoping the satisfaction of hearing the body hit would make the man leave. But no footsteps followed. Sherlock stayed down and waited.

You: He listened, not surprised at the loud thud from the other side of the door. "Contract filled," he muttered to himself. "May as well tell Megan." The assassin pulled out his phone and typed out a quick text.

Stranger: Sherlock Holmes is dead. -LS

You: Good. Payment in full will be wired to you. - MR

Stranger: He was easier than I thought. -LS

You: Good to know. I will recommend you to my boss and I wouldn't be surprised if he had more work for you down the line. - MR

Stranger: As long as it pays well. -LS

You: He does. Any further contacts will be from him. I'd advise you to lose this number. - MR

Stranger: Will do. -LS

You: Megan put her phone away, satisfied with the conversation. Now, as long as the idiot hadn't reported to Mycroft yet, which they didn't this quickly in her experience, her position was safe.

Stranger: Sherlock stayed on the floor and waited, listening to the footsteps outside the door get farther until he couldn't hear them anymore. Getting silently to his feet, he pulled out his phone and got as far away from the door as he could. He dialed Mycroft and listened as it rang twice and Mycroft's voice came over the phone. Keeping his voice to a whisper, just in case, he said, "We have a problem."

You: Mycroft sighed and rubbed at the bridge of his nose with his fingers. He was still sitting in his office, trying to put Sherlock's life back together after Moriarty had destroyed it. "And what problem is that, little brother?" he asked resignedly.

Stranger: "I just got a little present from Megan," he growled. "Just got shot at. Apparently they now know where I'm staying."

You: "Are they still there?" Mycroft asked, his voice sharp. "Have you been injured? Did anyone follow you? You need to find a new place to stay. I can have agents to your location in half an hour."

Stranger: "I'm fine, Mycroft," Sherlock said, scratching the back of his neck. "He shot through the door and I stepped aside before he could even pull the gun out from behind his back. I got him to leave, I just fell to the floor, got him to think I was dead. If you can get me a new place, that would be better."

You: "All right, good," Mycroft said, blowing out a relieved breath. "Give me five minutes and then I'll call you with the names of the agents who are coming to get you."

Stranger: "Alright," Sherlock sighed. "I'll talk to you in a bit then." Sherlock hung up the phone and noted that his hand was shaking slightly in a delay reaction of the fear that had coursed through him. He decided he needed to find a way to relax so he opened a new text message.  
John? Hey. -Dean.

You: Mycroft sighed again, rolling his eyes at the complications Sherlock managed to get himself into. Making another phone call, he lined up a room in another hotel for Sherlock and got two agents to shepherd him there.

Stranger: Sherlock sat there in silence, sighing heavily when John didn't answer. He jumped when his phone went off in his ringtone for calls, seeing Mycroft's name on the ID. "Mycroft," he greeted, answering the phone.

You: "I have a room booked for you," Mycroft said without preamble. "Two agents are coming to meet you. They will give you the codeword savannah when they knock on the door."

Stranger: "Savannah," Sherlock repeated with a nod. "And where will I be going?"

You: "I would rather not give you the name of the hotel over the phone," Mycroft replied, grimacing. "Though it's supposed to be nearly impossible, your phone may be bugged. The agents will tell you."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded even though he knew Mycroft couldn't see him. "By the way, Mycroft," Sherlock muttered, sitting down on the couch in the room. "How's John doing?"

You: Mycroft tilted his head to the side, surprised at the question. "Last I knew, he was well," he said carefully, his entire tone a question. "Why do you ask?"

Stranger: "I just texted him," Sherlock said, bothering his bottom lip. "He normally texts back right away. He hasn't yet."

You: "That doesn't mean anything is wrong, Sherlock," Mycroft replied, pressing a button on his desk to summon Anthea. "He could be busy. However, I can send Anthea to check on him if this is important to you."

Stranger: "If you could," Sherlock nodded. He couldn't shake the feeling that something was wrong, even though he knew everything was probably fine and John was just sleeping or something. "Thank you."

You: "Not a problem," Mycroft said, holding up a finger when Anthea walked in. "I will have Anthea text you when she checks on him. And for god's sake, try to keep yourself out of trouble, will you?" Mycroft hung up then, motioning for Anthea to sit down. He explained what he wanted and smiled at her efficient nod.

Stranger: Sherlock hung up the phone and slipped it into his pocket after putting it on vibrate. Standing, Sherlock moved to the kitchen and got a glass of water. He heard a knock on the door and looked out the hole. "Yes?"

You: "Savannah," came a quiet, high-pitched tenor voice. The agent waited patiently, glancing at his partner every few seconds then down the hallway. The bullet holes in the door were glaringly obvious to his trained eyes.

Stranger: Sherlock stepped back and opened the door, motioning the two men inside. One was tall and skinny, like himself, with short red hair and bright silver eyes. The other stood a little shorter and had blond hair with hazel eyes and was glancing around the flat. They looked as though they were both new at this job and Sherlock sighed to himself. "I'm guessing you're the ones Mycroft sent?" he asked with a small sigh.

You: "We are," the taller agent replied, taking in Sherlock. "Are you ready to go, Mr. Holmes?"

Stranger: Sherlock nodded once before going towards the front door and picking up the backpack he had sitting there with all his stuff in it. He turned towards the two men, who were standing there watching him, a sort of clueless, newbie look to their glares, though it wasn't obvious. "Lead the way," Sherlock said impatiently, raising an eyebrow at the two of them.

You: "Parker, you first," the taller agent said, gesturing at the blonde. He nodded and started out, glancing both ways before heading into the hallway. "After you, Mr. Holmes," the agent continued, waving a hand at the open doorway.

Stranger: Sherlock gave the man a nod and followed after Parker. He rolled his eyes at the shorter man ahead of him, jumping at any little noise that was out of the ordinary. "Newbie?" Sherlock growled, getting up close behind Parker and muttering it into his ear, not looking at the man but rather straight ahead, a hand resting on the strap of the backpack flung over one shoulder.

You: "Not exactly," Parker demurred, never stopping his gaze from moving. "Though, you are one of the most high-profile people I've encountered. Mycroft Holmes called us specifically. The boss never gets involved."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and dropped back slightly, unwilling to continue the conversation. He really had lost his touch on reading people. He grimaced at the thought and shook his head. He was just shaken up, that was all.

You: The two agents walked Sherlock outside quickly, keeping him in their line of sight at all times. They hailed a cab and went to a new hotel, one on the other side of the city. "Here we are, Mr. Holmes," Parker said, a smile breaking across his face. "You have the dubious honor of being our third completed mission as partners."

Stranger: "As partners as in working together?" Sherlock asked, not really caring just curiosity getting the better of him. "Or as in something else?"

You: "Working together," Parker replied cheerfully. "Hanson there is a bachelor and I'm happily married. He says relationships aren't for him." Parker got out of the cab, waiting for Sherlock and Hanson. "We're supposed to escort you up," he explained.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and looked back as Hanson got out of the cab. He looked the man over, giving the details special attention and piecing them together. "Gay," he muttered out, following Parker.

You: Hanson shrugged at Sherlock, a small smile tugging at his lips. "You're the first person ever caught onto that," he muttered low enough that Parker didn't hear. "I don't bruit it about."

Stranger: "It's painfully obvious," Sherlock muttered back over his shoulder. "And you have a thing for Parker, am I wrong?"

You: "No, you're not," Hanson muttered, flushing and looking away. "But he's married and I'm not getting in the middle of that. It's why I keep myself to myself. I'd appreciate you not saying anything. We still need to work together when this is done."

Stranger: "Not a word," Sherlock smirked. He heard Hanson chuckle dryly and turned to look at him. "What?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.

You: "Nothing, just thank you," Hanson replied, shaking his head. "Not many would strip a man of his secrets and then agree to keep silent on them."

Stranger: "Well, I know what it's like to have to hide feelings from the man you love," Sherlock muttered, shaking his head, his mind racing to John. "Things all work out though. So don't give up on him."

You: Hanson didn't say anything, visibly starting at the word "love". He sped up when Parker looked back, worry on his face. "Let's go," he growled, giving Sherlock a light shove on his shoulder.

Stranger: Sherlock smirked and sped up to catch up a little to Parker. He looked back to see Hanson blushing lightly, his eyes fixed ahead and slightly on Parker.

You: They made it inside and to the front desk without any more incidents and Sherlock was actually surprised to see Parker pull out a card and hand it to the receptionist. She looked at it and pulled out a keycard while typing something into the computer. "Room 418 for Mr. Michaels," she said, handing the keycard to Parker.

Stranger: Sherlock watched as Parker took the key and followed him to the elevators. They piled in and Hanson pressed the button for level four. Sherlock just stood in the back, watching the numbers above the door rise.

You: "Soon you'll be rid of us," Parker said cheerfully. He grinned at Sherlock, one foot tapping at the floor of the elevator. "Mycroft mentioned you don't like working with others."

Stranger: Sherlock huffed and nodded. "Almost everyone else is just too slow to keep up. They only end up slowing me down when it's all said and done. Why would that be enjoyable?"

You: "No, I can see your point," Parker replied, looking up as the elevator dinged. "Though, keep in mind, you can call on us again if you get into trouble. It can be... difficult here, on your own."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and took the small card that Hanson held out to him with their numbers on it. He pocketed it without so much as a second look and watched as Parker unlocked the door, handing him the key. "Will do."

You: Parker nodded and walked into the room first, checking it while Hanson stayed outside, guarding the door. Sherlock waited impatiently, rolling his eyes at the extreme measures. Though, really, he was almost killed earlier. "Clear," Parker announced, coming back out and giving Sherlock a cheery smile. "Have a nice day, Mr. Holmes."

Stranger: "And you, Parker," Sherlock nodded before turning to Hanson. "And you," he said with a knowing glance and a raise of his eyebrows.

You: "Yeah, thanks," Hanson replied, another light flush rising on his cheeks. He walked away then, silently listening to Parker chatter about something or other. Meeting with Sherlock Holmes definitely was... different.

Stranger: Sherlock closed and locked the door behind the two men, turning back into the flat and texting Mycroft a message.  
Got here fine. Thank you -Sherlock Holmes

You: You're very welcome. I just hope you didn't bother my agents all that much. Anthea has just gotten to John's flat. She texted me when she arrived. I'll let you know. - MH

Stranger: Alright. And no, I didn't bother them too much. -SH

You: Mycroft didn't reply right away, waiting until Anthea reported on John's whereabouts. The answer came quickly and Mycroft sighed in relief when Anthea explained that John was sleeping after editing all night.  
He's safe. Just asleep after pulling an all-nighter - MH

Stranger: Alright. Was he working on his novel? -SH

You: So Anthea says. Why do you ask? - MH

Stranger: Just asking. Thanks for the update. -SH

You: Very well. Stay safe, Sherlock. Call me if you run into anymore troubles. - MH

Stranger: Will do. Goodbye, brother. -SH

You: Mycroft put his phone on the desk next to the pile of paperwork he was slowly working through. Now that he'd found all the evidence he needed to prove that Sherlock had not planned all the crimes he worked on, he needed to put that evidence into a format the superintendent would find irrefutable.

Stranger: Sherlock threw his phone onto the bed as he moved into the bedroom and placed his backpack on the mattress. Opening it, he took out his laptop and loaded it up, connecting to the internet and moving to sit next to his bag. He went through his email, deeming everything unimportant and just deleting it all. He closed the device and started when his phone beeped. 

You: Anthea said you were worried about me. Sorry about that. What did you need when you texted, Dean? - JW

Stranger: I just needed to talk. I had just been almost killed and wanted to talk to calm down. -Dean.

You: WHAT? Are you all right? What happened? - JW

Stranger: I'm fine, was just a little shaken up. Some guy came up who worked for one of the first people I met. He shot through the door three times and I was able to trick him into thinking I was dead by just falling to the floor until he left. -Dean.

You: Amateur. Imagine me snorting at his idiocy. He should have opened the door to check on you. Though, I'm glad he didn't. I don't want to lose you. Does this mean your trip is getting cut short? - JW

Stranger: Sadly no. I still have to see it through to the end. But I agree, he should have checked. Oh well, I guess to live to see another day. Darn. Imagine the sarcasm in my voice. -Dean

You: Yes, I can, clearly. I hope Mycroft gives you a quicker timetable than the last time. I miss going out for coffee with you. - JW

Stranger: I miss that too. I also miss your kiss. -Dean

You: Yes and that's not all I miss about you. Though I need to sleep again, I'm falling asleep as I type. See you soon, hopefully? - JW

Stranger: Trust me, that's not all I miss either about you. Goodnight then. I'll talk to you soon, and hopefully can wrap things up here and move on so I can come home sooner. Love you. -Dean

You: Good night, Dean. Stay safe. - JW

Stranger: Sherlock smiled lightly and set his phone down on the bed again. He stood and changed his clothes, feeling like he hadn't in a while. With a sigh, he pocketed his phone and went to lay down on the couch. He decided to nap until Mycroft called him with more information on his next meeting.

You: Mycroft worked through the report he was writing until Anthea interrupted him to bring in lunch. He smiled thankfully at her, stretching to relieve the aching in his back and neck. "It's about time to call Sherlock about the agents in Poland," she reminded him absently, tapping away at her phone.

Stranger: "I know. I'll need to do that by the end of the hour," Mycroft muttered more to himself as he started to open his house salad. "Thank you."

You: Anthea nodded and took herself out. She still had a great deal of work to do in order to fix the shambles Moriarty had made of Sherlock's reputation. Mycroft ate quickly, still writing in his report. When he was finished, he picked up his phone again and called Sherlock.

Stranger: Sherlock rolled onto his back in his hazy state of mind and pulled his phone out of his pocket. "'ello?" he slurred, rubbing a hand over his eyes.

You: "Sorry to wake you, brother," Mycroft said dryly. "I forgot the time difference. However, I have the schedule for you to meet with my agents, if you'd like to hear it?"

Stranger: "Sure. Then can you send it to my email as well? Just in case," Sherlock said as he stood and went to his own bedroom, laying down on the bed and pulling the covers up.

You: "Of course," Mycroft replied, writing down a note to himself to remember. "Is there anything else you need? The hotel satisfactory?"

Stranger: "Hotel's fine. I just need to hear the time you want me to go to the next agent."

You: "In the morning for you will be fine," Mycroft replied. "Be a little more tactful than your normal self, if you could. This agent is... high strung but she is brilliant at what she does."

Stranger: "Noted," Sherlock yawned. "I'll meet with her in the morning. Now, if you don't mind, goodnight, Mycroft. Say hello to Lestrade."

You: "Good night and I will," Mycroft replied, his voice turning fond as he thought of his fiance. He hung up the phone and looked at the pile of paperwork on the desk. It was nearing 2 pm and, suddenly, all Mycroft wanted to do was go home. Which he did.

Stranger: "Baby? Is that you?" Lestrade called as he heard the front door open. He muted the TV as he sat up and looked towards the front door.

You: "It is, love," Mycroft called back, closing the door with his foot. "I brought some takeaway if you're hungry." He walked into the living room and smiled at Greg.

Stranger: "That would be great. What did you bring?" Lestrade asked, opening his arms to have Mycroft sit in them.

You: "Chinese," Mycroft replied, sitting down and hugging Greg tightly. He pressed a kiss to the side of his neck before leaning towards the table and digging through the bag. He handed a carton to Greg along with a pair of chopsticks. "There you go, love."

Stranger: "You are so amazing, babe," Lestrade smiled, taking the food and kissed his thanks to Mycroft. "Why are you home so early? Everything okay?" he asked, taking a bite of the food.  
You: "Thank you," Mycroft replied, smiling again. "And today was... tiring. I worked through all of Sherlock's cases and then he called with an assassination attempt on him. I had to move him to a new hotel in Poland."

Stranger: "Oh, god. Is he alright?" Lestrade asked, sitting up more.

You: "He's fine," Mycroft said around a mouthful of chicken. "He tricked the shooter and got away. He's safe now in a new hotel and asleep, I assume. How has your day been?"

Stranger: "Fine. Just been... You know, Telly and all..." Lestrade said as he swallowed.

You: Mycroft caught the tic and set his carton down to wrap his arms around Greg again. He captured Greg's lips in a gentle kiss then said, "What's the matter, love?"

Stranger: "Nothing, nothing. Was just swallowing was all," Lestrade muttered, leaning up to kiss Mycroft again. "I'm okay baby. Promise."

You: Mycroft kissed back, nibbling at the corners of Greg's mouth. "All right," he said, placing one last kiss on Greg's cheek. "As long as you tell me if you start to feel sick again. If you're up to it, after we eat, I could use your help with the cases Sherlock worked on."

Stranger: "I can try to help as much as I can," Lestrade said against Mycroft's lips.

You: "Excellent," Mycroft murmured, smiling against Greg's lips. "It will be a great help since you were the lead on most of the cases." He shifted over so that his leg was touching Greg's and wrapped his arms around his waist.

Stranger: "You know I'll always help if I can, love," Lestrade whispered, running one hand up to the back of Mycroft's neck. "What cases will you be looking at tomorrow?"

You: "I'll be starting chronologically," Mycroft replied, leaning into Greg's touch. He slid his hands down to the hem of Greg's shirt and teased at the skin just underneath. "So the earliest cases tomorrow."

Stranger: Lestrade moaned and leaned in closer to Mycroft, almost in his lap. "Then we can just sit down at go through them together if you'd like," he said as he wrapped his arms around Mycroft's waist, pulling him into his lap.

You: "Perfect," Mycroft replied, nibbling at the side of Greg's neck. "Once we're done, we can start getting Sherlock's reputation back together." He shifted slowly, moving his hips forward and back against Greg's. Smiling at the look on Greg's face, Mycroft leaned down to kiss him again, deeper this time.

Stranger: "S-sounds like a p-plan," Lestrade panted, a moan being pulled from his lips as Mycroft moved against him. Lestrade took his hips and pulled him against him, digging his fingers into the skin as he moved. "What do w-we need to d-do for that?"

You: Mycroft groaned as Greg dug his fingers in, moving a little faster. "Start proving that Richard Brook doesn't exist," Mycroft murmured into Greg's ear, licking at the shell. "Also show the authorities that Sherlock helped solve the cases, not set them up." He snuck his hands up underneath Greg's shirt and splayed his fingers over his chest.

Stranger: Lestrade raised his arms and Mycroft pulled the shirt over his head. "Sounds easy enough. Just may... Take some time," Lestrade said as he started working on the buttons on Mycroft's shirt. Once that was off he trailed his nails down Mycroft's stomach and chest down to work on his pants button.

You: "Time... we... have," Mycroft gasped, arching into the nails that ran down his chest. He let Greg undo the button before kissing him lightly and standing up. "Why don't we head upstairs?" he asked, holding out a hand to Greg.

Stranger: Lestrade nodded and took Mycroft's hand, allowing himself to be dragged upstairs.

You: Once they reached the bedroom, Mycroft pushed Greg down onto the bed and straddled him, running his fingers down his bare chest. "I've missed you," Mycroft murmured, leaning down to mouth at Greg's collarbone. "With you being sick, I didn't want you doing anything strenuous. But you're feeling better now, aren't you?"

Stranger: "Better. Not one-hundred percent, but better," Lestrade smiled and tilted his head back to allow Mycroft more room. "If I start feeling sick I'll tell you baby, don't worry. But please, hun, take me."

You: Mycroft didn't reply, just grinned against Greg's skin and started nipping a little harder. He worked at the button on Greg's pants, getting it undone and sliding them down his hips. Rubbing circles over the revealed skin of Greg's hips, Mycroft sucked hard on the point of his colarbone.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned loudly and wrapped his arms around Mycroft tighter, pulling him closer. He bucked into Mycroft with a light grunt. As Mycroft worked his fingers over Lestrade's hip, Lestrade went to work pulling Mycroft's pants down to around his ankles.

You: Mycroft leaned back far enough to kick his pants off, dragging Greg's the rest of the way off. Moving back up, he kissed the skin over Greg's hips, licking and sucking small red marks there. He could hear Greg moaning above him as he moved, slowly circling closer to his groin.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned loudly something that resembled Mycroft's name before he fell back to lay down flat on the bed. "Oh dear God..." he muttered, feeling Mycroft's hair brush his member, the area extremely sensitive all of a sudden. "Baby..."

You: "What is it, Greg?" Mycroft asked, smirking up at Greg. His tongue darted out and licked a stripe up Greg's erection, one hand pressing down on his hips so that Greg couldn't buck up against him.

Stranger: "Y-you... God..!" Lestrade moaned, his eyes closing as the tongue swiped at his erection. He gripped the bed harder and smirked, another moan passing his lips.

You: Mycroft smiled again then licked up and down Greg's erection, swiping underneath the head on each upstroke. Finally, he sucked Greg's length into his mouth, slowly taking in each inch. Both hands were on Greg's hips now, kneading at the skin and pressing them down into the bed.

Stranger: Lestrade struggled to buck up, being restrained by Mycroft. He moaned loudly and closed his eyes, dropping his head back to the bed. "My-Mycroft," he stuttered, his fingers curling and uncurling from the bed sheet, a sheet of sweat starting to coat his body. "L-love.... you..." Breathing was getting hard but Lestrade couldn't care less.

You: Mycroft hummed around Greg's erection, taking more into his mouth. He slid one hand underneath Greg, cupping his ass and kneading with his fingers. His other continued to hold Greg's hips to keep him from moving. Mycroft's own erection was throbbing with inattention but the sounds coming from Greg's mouth distracted him.

Stranger: Lestrade whimpered as Mycroft moved closer and closer to deep throating him. He tried to buck up but Mycroft's hold kept him down. He clawed at the sheets, his toes curling. "D-deeper," he moaned, his head rolling to the side. "T-take me d-deeper..."

You: Mycroft hummed again, flicking a glance up at Greg. Their eyes met and Mycroft tried to convey that he was going to go at his own pace, thank you very much. Sliding his head back, he flicked his tongue around the head of Greg's erection, teasing at the sensitive skin.

Stranger: Lestrade whimpered again, the sound embarrassing for a grown man but Lestrade honestly not able to give a damn about that little fact at the moment. He rolled his hips a little and looked down at Mycroft, meeting his dilated eyes and giving him the best pleading gaze he could.

You: Mycroft teased a little further, the hand under Greg's ass sneaking towards the middle. He then sank down further, taking as much of Greg's erection in his mouth as he could and sucking hard.

Stranger: Lestrade didn't know to buck up or back, Mycroft's hand finally reaching the middle and teasing his hole. He moaned loudly something that sounded roughly like Mycroft's name before he froze, his body overwhelmed by pleasure.

You: Still sucking, Mycroft circled Greg's entrance then slowly slipped his finger inside. He waited until Greg relaxed around him then pushed his finger inside completely before pulling out and thrusting back in. He moved faster over Greg's erection, tongue rubbing against the vein on the underside.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned deeply and thrusted back. "M-Mycroft... God..." he moaned. "Y-you're amazing... Love..."

You: Mycroft smiled as best he could around Greg's erection, finally letting go of his hips and letting the other man move. He slipped another finger inside him, twisting just enough to hit the bundle of nerves as he sank down, taking Greg deep into his mouth.

Stranger: Lestrade bucked up before bucking back, trying to get Mycroft deeper in both areas. He needed Mycroft to do more, move more and get his body on him. He knew Mycroft must have been turned on painfully, his erection pressed painfully into the mattress, and that thought only made Lestrade even harder. To picture Mycroft's erection pressed tightly against the sheets, pre-come coating the tip... It was too much.

You: Mycroft thrust his fingers harder inside Greg, stretching him and teasing him. He continued to suck hard, wrapping the fingers of his other hand around the base of Greg's erection and stroking. Backing off for a moment, Mycroft murmured, "Come on, love, come for me." He took Greg's erection into his mouth again, tongue playing at the sensitive skin.

Stranger: "C-close..." Lestrade moaned, his head falling back again. It only took a few more licks till Lestrade's vision blurred and he felt his orgasm burst from him.

You: Mycroft sucked and stroked Greg through it, relishing the trembling and the moaning. He slowed his fingers down, enough to give sensation but not enough to be overwhelming. When Greg relaxed back against the bed, Mycroft sat back and slipped his fingers out. "You ok, love?" he asked, moving up to lay alongside him.

Stranger: "Fine," Lestrade growled, running his hand down between Mycroft's thigh. "But I see you still need help there."

You: "Some help would be rather nice," Mycroft replied, brushing kisses over Greg's neck. He arched into Greg's touch, trying to make Greg's hand slide up to where his erection was still throbbing.

Stranger: Lestrade caught Mycroft's lips in a needy kiss as he traced patterns into his skin on his thigh. Slowly, teasingly, he moved his hand upward until his fingertips brushed the base of Mycroft's erection. "There?" he asked with a smirk.

You: "Yes," Mycroft panted, his hips jerking forward again. He kissed Greg hard, his tongue plunging in and mapping out Greg's mouth again. "Please, more."

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled lightly and wrapped his fingers around Mycroft's member. "What do you want?" he asked slowly, kissing Mycroft's ear. "Fingers... Or mouth?"

You: "I want... your mouth on me," Mycroft said, groaning as Greg squeezed gently. "Please, love." His hips bucked forward again, sliding Greg's hand along his erection. Mycroft threw his head back at the friction.

Stranger: Lestrade removed his hand and shifted down between Mycroft's legs. He let his tongue flicker out to brush at the pre-come that was there, chuckling lightly. "You are beautiful."

You: Mycroft's only reply was a broken moan as his fingers threaded into Greg's hair and massaged at his scalp. He pushed gently, trying to bring Greg into more contact with his erection. "Please," he whispered again.

Stranger: Lestrade slanted him a look with a smirk that told Mycroft to relax and just let him do all the work. He took the head into his mouth and sucked lightly, running his tongue repeatedly over the hole.

You: Moaning again, Mycroft's fingers loosened until they were resting on Greg's head. He relaxed back into the bed, letting his hips pump in a slow, shallow rhythm with Greg's mouth. "You feel so good," Mycroft muttered breathlessly. "So hot and wet around me."

Stranger: Lestrade whimpered slightly at the lust that drowned Mycroft's voice. He took Mycroft's hips with his fingers and pushed them down into the bed, holding him so he didn't move. He sucked more into his mouth, sucking harder.

You: Mycroft had to smile at the move that Greg was repeating on him then all though went out the window when Greg moved further down his erection. Trying to push his hips up failed but that merely turned Mycroft on more. Greg was the only one he'd ever show this much vulnerability to.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled to himself as he felt Mycroft struggle. He looked so beautiful, his pretty face flushed red and his lips swollen from their brutal kissing earlier. He felt a twinge in his crotch and knew he was getting hard yet again. He sucked harder, taking as much of Mycroft's erection in as he could without deep throating him and sucked as hard as he could, feeling his ears pop.

You: "God, that's it," Mycroft said, voice rising almost to a scream. "Greg, more, yes." One hand tightens convulsively, pulling at the hair tangled around his fingers. The other drops to the bed where he grips tight to the sheets, hoping for something to ground him as Greg licks and sucks at him.

Stranger: Lestrade swallowed him and continued to swallow around him, his nails clawing as Mycroft's hips. He gently ran his teeth across the sensitive skin, keeping him in as deep as he could, swallowing to try to bring him in more.

You: Mycroft brought his head up so he could see Greg, watch him take his erection between his lips. And that proved to be the last straw. "Greg... going to... ohhhhh," Mycroft managed to say, pulling at the hair around his fingers.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled back and just gently wrapped his tongue around Mycroft slowly. He felt Mycroft explode into his mouth and carried him through it. He swallowed the load and began to lick Mycroft clean, the slightest amount of come that managed to escape his lips and spray over Mycroft's thighs and stomach.

You: Once his body had stopped shuddering it's way through his orgasm, Mycroft let out a sigh and held out his arms for Greg. When the other man lay down next to him, Mycroft curled into him and tucked his head against his shoulder. "I love you," he murmured, fingers tracing random patterns on Greg's neck. "You are wonderful at that."

Stranger: "I love you too, Mycroft," Lestrade whispered, leaning into his touch. "You're so beautiful wasted and red and swollen lipped."

You: "Same for you, love," Mycroft chuckled, then yawned. "So, nap now and maybe work on those cases later?" He pressed a kiss to the side of Greg's neck, his eyes already fluttering closed.

Stranger: Lestrade nodded with a small yawn, pulling Mycroft closer. He pecked him on the lips, slowly and lovingly. "Sounds like a perfect plan, baby," he smiled, closing his eyes.

You: "Good night, then, love," Mycroft whispered, throwing one arm over Greg's chest. He let his eyes close completely and his breathing even out, sleep coming quickly.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: Sherlock stood outside his new hotel, hood of his jacket up, his face hidden and his hands shoved in his pockets. He started south along the street, moving swiftly through the crowds.

You: The target of Sherlock's determined walk was one Elizabeth Mackey, sitting in her apartment and working on cleaning her guns. She knew one of Mycroft's special agents was going to be here, but she had no idea what day he would be coming. All she could do was wait and worry.

Stranger: Sherlock moved up to the oak door and knocked three times, waiting for footsteps to come closer. When none came, he knocked again.

You: Elizabeth's head whipped up at the knock, her heart beating wildly in her chest. For a moment, it was all she could to do keep breathing and not give into the fear. When the knock came again, she breathed deeply and slipped into the persona she'd created for herself when she took on this mission. Suddenly calm, she walked over to the door and called out, "Yes?"

Stranger: "Arbres noirs," Sherlock called back, leaning against the wall next to the door and crossing his arms. He was really getting tired of all this.

You: Elizabeth relaxed fractionally and opened the door, taking in the sight of Sherlock on her threshold. Her eyes narrowed as she studied him, flicking over his facial features. "You're Mycroft's brother then?" she asked, stepping aside and waving Sherlock in. "I can see the family resemblance."

Stranger: Sherlock huffed and stepped into the thresh hold. "I'm just here for the information you have collected thus far. I'm in no mood for small talk, if you do not mind."

You: "Of course," Elizabeth replied, her tone businesslike. She walked back into her bedroom, the dismantled gun still on her coffee table a pointed warning to Sherlock in case he needed it. Which, honestly, if he was anything like his brother, he wouldn't. She grabbed the file from the safe under her bed and brought it back out to Sherlock. "Here you go."

Stranger: Sherlock took the file and leafed through the papers inside. "Anything else you would like me to tell Mycroft? Anything to add?" Sherlock asked, closing the folder with a small snap.

You: "Just that I think the ringleader is getting ready to move his operation," Elizabeth replied, sitting down on the couch next to the coffee table and cleaning her gun again. "Though that is in the report. He's been making moves toward the US, talking with other drug dealers there. He might just head there."

Stranger: Sherlock pulled out his phone and sent a message to Mycroft, telling him just that. "Well, he'll know now before the files get there. Thank you for your time, and continue doing the good work." Sherlock turned on his heel and left the flat, files tucked under his arm.

You: "Yep," Elizabeth replied, turning her head to study Sherlock. "Were the any other orders for me? Or possibly when I might be able to come home?" Her voice turned wistful on the last question, a wave of homesickness overtaking her.

Stranger: "My brother will contact you when that time comes," Sherlock said over his shoulder with a wave. "Along with further instructions."

You: Elizabeth nodded, not wanting to speak as the homesickness dispelled the persona she wore. If she spoke now, she'd likely start crying. She waved as Sherlock walked out, only waiting until he left to let the tears roll down her face. It had been a long six months here.

Stranger: Sherlock stopped by his hotel room and dropped off the folder. Looking up at the clock, he noticed it was only eleven thirty in the morning. He decided to head out for the third agent, who was located on the other side of town.

You: John eyed his phone yet again, resting his eyes from staring at his computer screen. He was working on his novel again, this time slightly more than halfway through, and hoping that Dean would text him again. He wanted to know everything about the attempt on his life, only his utter exhaustion causing him to cut their conversation short last time.

Stranger: Sherlock moved quickly through the snow covered sidewalks. His hands were shoved into his pockets and his head was down, keeping the now lightly falling snow from his face. He pushed his way through the crowds before spotting a cafe. Convincing himself he needed a treat and coffee to cheer him up a little, he moved into the warm building, the yellowish glow a welcoming sight.

You: Finally fed up with waiting and acting like a teenager, John picked up his phone and typed out a quick message to Dean. He sent it, smiling as he did so. Hopefully, the other man would have time to talk.

Stranger: Sherlock jumped slightly as John's beep sounded from his phone. He fingered the phone from his pocket and looked down at the message as he waited for his coffee.  
Hey, John. How are you? -Dean.

You: Not too bad. A little frustrated with my novel. How are you? Everything ok after the attempt on your life? - JW

Stranger: Yeah, everything is fine. Going to meet with the third agent, having already met with the second. I plan to knock out all of Poland today. -Dean.

You: That's great news! What are your plans after that? - JW

Stranger: France. Then home at last. -Dean.

You: Really? France isn't that far away. Are you thinking of taking the ferry back across the Channel? - JW

Stranger: I might. I don't know. I'm not big on boats, but it sounds nice. -Dean.

You: I could meet you, here on this side, if you came by boat. Or I could meet your plane. If you wanted, of course. - JW

Stranger: I would love that. Mycroft is supposed to meet me, so maybe I'll tell him I'm going by plane and take the boat. I don't really want to meet him right away and I can always go to his office later saying I texted him I changed. -Dean.

You: Getting one over on Mycroft always makes me laugh. Sounds like a plan. Will you let me know when you're done today? I keep worrying about you, running around all by yourself. - JW

Stranger: Okay, mother. Imagine the sarcasm in my voice and the eye roll. -Dean.

You: Well, someone needs to worry. You don't seem to all that often. - JW

Stranger: I worry about you. -Dean.

You: I'm not the one getting shot at. The most danger I'm in is from a papercut. Just stay safe, all right? I want to... see if we can make this whatever-it-is between us work. - JW

Stranger: I know it will. If you'll take me back. -Dean.

You: Take you back? What do you mean? - JW

Stranger: Nothing. Just, after all this, is all. -Dean.

You: I never rejected you. There's nothing for you to worry about, Dean. - JW

Stranger: Not yet. But I have to go. Goodbye, John. -Dean.

You: You're going to explain that but I'll let it go for now. Goodbye, Dean and stay safe. - JW. John put his phone back on the desk, staring at it with a confused and worried look. What the hell was going on with the other man? John hadn't shown any signs of reluctance once he decided to give a relationship with Dean a try. At least he didn't think so. Unable to unravel the mystery, he went back to the thorny process of editing his novel.

Stranger: Sherlock pocketed the phone and sighed, hearing his name being called for his coffee. He made his way up to grab the cup and biscuit on a plate, taking it to a table and sitting down. Would John even take him back once he told John the truth? Would he be so angry that he would want nothing to do with Sherlock? Would he regret even a moment with Dean? Sherlock sighed heavily as a thought crossed his mind that honestly scared him more than anything. Would he, in the end of all this, lose John?

You: Jack Kent knew he was going to meet with the agent Mycroft sent today. He didn't know how, nor did he particularly care. These feelings were something he relied on in his job and one of the reasons Mycroft had sent him to infiltrate a human trafficking ring here in Poland. He waited impatiently, knowing he wouldn't be able to do much until after the agent had come.

Stranger: Sherlock finished his meal quickly, standing and throwing his stuff away to move towards the door and move back out into the cold. He made his way quickly to the street and waved down a cab. He knew the man he was going to visit was named Jack Kent, remembering form Mycroft's briefing earlier. Otherwise, this man was a mystery to him.

You: At a brisk knock, Jack got up and looked through the peephole. He didn't recognize the tall stranger with ice-blue eyes on the other side, but then again, he probably wouldn't. "Who is it?" he called through the door, one hand wrapping around the hilt of a gun in his waistband.

Stranger: "Sidabro Mirtis," Sherlock said, his tone flat, thoughts of John still bothering him. He waited for the agent to let him in at the password.

You: Jack nodded to himself, fingers sliding off the gun before he opened the door. He tilted his head at Sherlock, stepping back to let the other man into the flat. "So, you want the file?" he asked, closing the door.

Stranger: "That's what I'm here for," Sherlock said, rolling his eyes and sighing. "Can you just get it for me so I can go? I don't want to be here any more than you want me here."

You: "It would be polite to have tea first," Jack said, pointing at the cups he had set out on his coffee table. "Water's in the kitchen. Help yourself while I go get the file." He walked into the bedroom, smiling to himself. Just his luck that Mycroft had sent an attractive agent. Perhaps they could spend some mutually enjoyable time together.

Stranger: "Will do," Sherlock said as he moved over and poured himself a cup of tea, adding in only sugar before he started to sip at it.

You: Jack came back with the file, setting it on the coffee table before pouring his own tea. He added sugar and milk before sitting back and sipping it, studying Sherlock with frank appraisal. "So, any orders for me?" Jack drawled.

Stranger: "No, not unless Mycroft contacted you," Sherlock shrugged, avoiding Jack's gaze and not noticing the look.

You: "No, he hasn't, but I've been pretty deep undercover with this ring," Jack said, crossing his legs as he continued to study Sherlock. As he'd hoped, the movement drew the other man's eyes to him. "You been working for him long?"

Stranger: Sherlock studied him with a quickly glance, slightly confused on what this man was trying to do. "He's my brother," he finally said after a few moments of silence.

You: "Must be difficult, having him for a brother," Jack replied, his gaze direct and warm. "He's a demanding boss. Tell me, do you live in London as well?"

Stranger: "I do, yes," Sherlock nodded, trying to figure out what this man was up to. "He's not a horrible brother. A little annoying at times, yes, but not too bad."

You: "I miss London," Jack said, shifting a little closer on the couch. He smiled when Sherlock shifted but didn't move away. "I enjoyed going for walks and studying the people. I was actually going to be an anthropologist before Mycroft's recruiters lured me away. People have always interested me, faces in particular. Take yours for instance. You have amazing cheekbones and gorgeous eyes."

Stranger: Sherlock couldn't help the small blush that crept over his cheeks. "R-right," he muttered, going back to sipping his tea, unsure of how to react to what the man just said. He was used to flirting with John, but was that what this man was doing?

You: Jack let his smile grow wider, a little more predatory as he put his cup on the table. He moved slowly, raising one hand to rest along Sherlock's cheek. His thumb brushed along the cheekbone, raising goosebumps in its wake. "Perhaps I don't want you to leave as badly as you seemed to think," Jack murmured.

Stranger: Sherlock swallowed dryly. He would be lying if he said he didn't like the touch this man was giving him. "I-I-" he stuttered. What should he do? How could he get out of this if - maybe he didn't really want to?

You: Jack waited for Sherlock to say more but nothing else was forthcoming. He leaned forward, watching as Sherlock's eyes widened. He pressed a gentle kiss to Sherlock's lips, the tip of his tongue moving over Sherlock's bottom lip before moving back.

Stranger: Sherlock shuddered, his face heating even more. His breathing hitched in his chest and his now empty cup fell against the saucer lightly, his hands unable to support its weight.

You: "Do you want me to keep going?" Jack asked, his voice low and his breath ghosting over Sherlock's lips. He recognized the uncertainty, the confusion, in the other man and gave him a moment to think.

Stranger: Sherlock knew he had to say no. His heart was for John, but then again, what if John didn't take him back? What if John was so angry at him for leaving and lying to him that he wanted him out of his life? "N-N-" Sherlock started to say before he stopped. Slowly, he nodded, his gaze locked on Jack's.

You: Jack heard the negative that Sherlock choked back but leaned forward again after he nodded. This time, as he kissed the other man, he didn't pull back. He merely moved, placing little bites at the corners of Sherlock's mouth before licking over the seam of his lips.

Stranger: Sherlock leaned slightly forward, the cup and saucer falling from his lap to the floor where it shattered. He didn't move otherwise, just let Jack kiss him, himself kissing back.

You: Jack could still feel a hesitation in Sherlock and wondered what it was about. He moved his hand down to Sherlock's neck, stroking over the skin underneath his jaw. "What is holding you back?" he asked softly.

Stranger: "N-nothing," Sherlock said slowly, his voice not as strong as before the kisses. He moved his arms up to around Jack's neck, pulling him forward. "Just... don't know what to do." He lied.

You: "Is that so?" Jack asked, chuckling. "First time ever or just first time with a man?" He continued brushing his fingers over Sherlock's neck, teasing down towards his collarbone.

Stranger: "B-both..." Sherlock muttered. "Only kissed one other, and it was only a quick peck to the lips." The lies rolled smoothly from his tongue, wanting an excuse for the hesitation.

You: "How does someone as gorgeous as you not have any experience?" Jack asked, moving his hand down into the vee of Sherlock's shirt. He traced over the skin, not at all surprised now when the other man shivered.

Stranger: Sherlock shrugged, his eyes closing slightly as Jack tracked the vee. "I-I don't know. Just... no one really wanted me I guess. Who could blame them?"

You: "Well, I could," Jack replied, leaning forward to nibble at the side of Sherlock's neck. "If I had seen you in London, I wouldn't have been able to keep my hands off you." He dropped his hands down to Sherlock's hips and pulled, causing the detective to fall forward and straddle his lap. "Much as I can't now."

Stranger: Sherlock moaned lightly, unable to help the small noise from escaping his lips as he straddled Jack's hips and he worked on his neck. "I-if you sa-say so," he stuttered.

You: Jack's only reply was a hum as he rubbed his hands up and down Sherlock's back. He nibbled harder, moving down from the side of Sherlock's neck to the dip in his collarbone. Leaving a wet trail, Jack looked up to catch Sherlock's eyes. "Well, since this is your first time, you feel uncomfortable at all, tell me," Jack said. "I will stop if you need me to."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded, his mind far from forming sentences that would actually make any sense. His head fell to Jack's shoulder as Jack worked. "D-do what you want," Sherlock muttered, himself and his body giving up.

You: Jack nodded before capturing Sherlock's lips again, gently pushing his tongue between them. He groaned at the heat and wet that met him, this simple contact something he'd been far too long without. Edging his fingers underneath Sherlock's shirt, he toyed at the skin on his sides.

Stranger: Sherlock bucked slightly at the touch, his breath coming in pants now. His fingers found Jack's hips and dug themselves into his sides, pulling him closer.

You: Jack hummed in approval, sliding his nails up Sherlock's sides. He started moving his hips slowly, building a gentle friction between them. He deepened the kiss, turning it hungrier as he explored Sherlock's mouth. The beeping of a phone was almost unnoticed but Jack pulled back and grimaced. "Mine," he said, recognizing the tone.

Stranger: Sherlock whimpered slightly at the loss of body heat as Jack leaned back to reach for his phone in his pocket. He jumped when Jack's fingers were moving under his leg, almost on his butt.

You: "Sorry, not so sorry for that," Jack smirked, brushing his fingers over Sherlock's thigh and butt again. His smile faded when he read the text on his phone. "However, much as I would like to continue this, duty calls. That would be my boss, wanting my help with the newest shipment. Hopefully, I can rescue some of those people. Raincheck?"

Stranger: "I won't be in town for much longer. I leave for France in about two day's time," Sherlock frowned.

You: "I'll probably be dealing with this for longer than that. Damn," Jack growled, glaring at his phone. "Well, we can always wait until we're both back in London. You can get my contact information through Mycroft." He leaned forward and captured Sherlock's lips again, nothing gentle or soft about it this time. He kissed hungrily, teasing at Sherlock's tongue until he fought back, sucking the other man's tongue into his mouth.

Stranger: "Can I get your number now?" Sherlock growled between kisses, kissing back just as hungrily. "I'd rather not ask my brother for that kind of thing, knowing him, he'll... ask questions."

You: "Yeah, I can do that," Jack replied, before slowing their kisses and wrapping his arms around Sherlock. He held tightly for a moment, a promise of things to come, before gently extricating himself from the tangle their limbs had become. He found paper and wrote his number down, handing it to Sherlock.

Stranger: Sherlock took the paper and stood from the couch, stretching slightly. "I'll text you when I get back to my hotel so you have my number. I hope you call me sometime," Sherlock muttered, not looking at Jack, but rather at the paper before he pulled out his phone and entered it quickly, pocketing the paper afterwards.

You: "You could always do it now," Jack pointed out, looking at Sherlock's phone. He walked to the door, opening it for the other man. "Hope to talk to you soon," he murmured, pulling Sherlock in for one last kiss.

Stranger: Sherlock sent the message to Jack before he was pulled down for a kiss. He chuckled when he felt the vibration against his leg as the beep was heard. "You will," Sherlock muttered, kissing Jack back.

You: Jack smiled and watched as Sherlock walked away, admiring his back and backside. He shut the door, sighing at the empty flat. Though, he had a feeling that this was the last time he would be seeing Sherlock.

Stranger: Sherlock sighed as he descended the stairs, feeling the slight regret he had on what just happened. He loved John, yet the first man that threw himself at him got in and Sherlock had let him do what he wished. He decided quickly at that moment that John didn't need to know what happened right away. Maybe he would tell him later.

You: His phone beeped again, this time Mycroft's name on the display. He flipped open his phone to read the text.  
I need you to wait a day for the fourth agent in Poland. If you're that far already of course. She's embroiled in a turf war and won't be able to meet with you until tomorrow. - MH

Stranger: I was just about to head over there. Just tell me when it's safe. I'll go to the hotel for tonight. -SH

You: Very well. I will let you know in the morning when is a good time. I hope everything went well with the other agents. - MH

Stranger: What? Do you not have hidden cameras in their hotel rooms as well? -SH

You: Waste of resources. Though, considering Megan, I may need to revise the oversight on my undercover agents. - MH

Stranger: Yes, well, don't. Now go back to your little boyfriend okay. -SH

You: Touchy, little brother. What's wrong? - MH

Stranger: Not in the best of moods to find out I have to stay here longer. Just leave it at that. -SH

You: Did John say something? Decide to cease in continuing your relationship? - MH

Stranger: I said leave it. -SH

You: I only want to help, Sherlock. I can talk to him, maybe ease him into the fact that you might be coming back? - MH

Stranger: No. Just please, for once, listen to me and leave it alone. -SH

You: Very well, I'll leave it alone for now. But if this impacts your work, I will get the story out of you. - MH

Stranger: It won't and you know that. Goodbye. -SH

You: Goodbye, Sherlock. Oh, and just thought you should know, the process to salvage your reputation is going well. - MH

Stranger: Will it be done soon? I'll be done with this mission in a week at most. I want to come home, Mycroft. -SH

You: I understand that. However, I cannot tell you how long this will take. You know how the media is. They may pick up the story right away or it may sit for a few weeks. - MH

Stranger: Man comes back to life. Yeah, I can see that one sitting around. -SH

You: We're not starting with that. We're going to repair your reputation first. It'll be a greater sensation and more proof that you were innocent if you come back after. Think of the headlines, dear brother. - MH

Stranger: I understand. -SH

You: Good. And please, for my sanity and possibly for John's, stay away from him for a bit. At least until we have your reputation repaired. It's going to be very difficult for him. - MH

Stranger: Will do. Now really, Mycroft, can I go? -SH

You: Yes, yes. Goodbye, Sherlock. - MH

Stranger: Sherlock pocketed the phone and made his way back to the cafe he was at earlier. He really just needed a nice hot coffee and a little time alone.

\----------------------------------------------------------------

You: Contrary to their earlier plans, Mycroft and Greg slept until the next morning, minus Mycroft's conversation with Sherlock. He woke to Greg smiling at him and leaned up to kiss him. "Well, love, you ready to start the battle?" Mycroft asked wryly.

Stranger: "As much as you sound," Lestrade said, rolling his eyes with no real heat behind it. "Do you really think it'll be all that hard?"

You: "I don't honestly know," Mycroft replied, shaking his head. "They were enjoying writing about all the cases he solved but then tore him apart once they got a hint of scandal. Even when there was no basis in reality other than what Moriarty made up."

Stranger: Lestrade sighed heavily, rubbing at his eyes. "Well, I don't know really what to say. Where do we start?" He laid back into the bed sheets and pillows, looking up at the ceiling. One of his hands slid over to take Mycroft's gently, melding their fingers together.

You: "We start with the information Anthea has dug up about Richard Brook and James Moriarty," Mycroft replied, squeezing Greg's hand. "I have a contact at one of the newspapers. He'll jump at the story since he owes me a favor. Then we can work on the cases."

Stranger: "I hope he owes you a few favors, at the sound of all this work that would be helpful," Lestrade sighed. He leaned over a pecked Mycroft on the lips. "Shall we get started?"

You: Mycroft took a few moments to kiss him and then sat up with a sigh. "No time like the present," he muttered. He dressed quickly and headed out to the kitchen.

Stranger: Lestrade sat up as well and followed Mycroft out to the kitchen. "What do you want to eat, love?" he asked, starting the tea.

You: "Just something light," Mycroft said. "Maybe some fruit. I work better on a non-full stomach." He laid out the files Anthea had left for him last night and studied them carefully.

Stranger: "Fruit, I can do that," Lestrade muttered, pulling the kettle off. "Do you want toast with that? Or is that too much?"

You: "Toast is fine, love," Mycroft said absently, one finger tapping his lip as he worked through the best approach. First, proving Richard Brook was a fake while running a story at the same time that Sherlock was trying to prove him fake. Anthea had come through splendidly, quickly delivering the proof that Moriarty created Richard Brook.

Stranger: Lestrade went to work fixing the breakfast. While waiting for the food to finish, he went to look over Mycroft's shoulder. All the papers spread out in front of him had pictures and short paragraphs, along with copies of different documents. He heard a ding and turned to retrieve the toast. He also started to cut the fruit and throw it into bowls.

You: As soon as Greg brought over a bowl and some toast, Mycroft looked up and grabbed his breakfast. He pulled Greg down for a quick kiss then started eating while still working on the files. Once he was done, he called his contact and outlined the stories he wanted run.

Stranger: Lestrade sat quietly, eating his breakfast and looking over the files. When Mycroft hung up the phone, Lestrade asked, "What do you want me to do, love? I don't want to bother you, but I don't want to be completely useless either."

You: "You won't be," Mycroft promised, dropping his phone on the table and clearing away the files he'd finished with. "You and I need to go over the cases. You know Sherlock the best at New Scotland Yard. I believe your word will lend weight to my arguments."

Stranger: "Alright," Lestrade nodded. "Is there anything you need right now from me?" He stood and took Mycroft's empty dishes, going to dump them all in the sink and pouring Mycroft more tea, adding what he knew he liked in it.

You: "If you're ready, I think we should go over the cases before taking them to the superintendent," Mycroft said, shuffling through the papers looking for that rather large file. "I don't want there to be any inconsistencies or hesitations that might cause him to believe we aren't being truthful."

Stranger: "Alright. Let's do that then we can put everything together and, if you're ready, head over there," Lestrade said, pulling a chair around and sitting down next to Mycroft, setting the kettle on the table so they could polish off the tea as they went.

You: Mycroft nodded and set out the files, linking one hand with Greg's as he did so. They started with the oldest ones first, Mycroft listening and taking notes as Greg explained what he remembered. A few hours later and they had finished the last case. "Wonderful," Mycroft said, smiling.

Stranger: "Are we done?" Lestrade asked, sounding surprised. "God, that was a lot of cases."

You: "Yes, we're done," Mycroft replied, letting go of Greg's hand and stretching. "Now we just need to do this all over again for the superintendent. Let me just text Anthea and she'll set up a meeting for us." He did so quickly, reading the confirmation text Anthea sent back.

Stranger: Lestrade pecked Mycroft's cheek as he worked, standing and going upstairs to dress quickly. He came back down and began to wash the dishes that still filled the sink.

You: Mycroft gathered up all the paperwork while Greg worked, making sure to only grab the cases to bring with him. A little while later, his phone beeped and Anthea told him the time of the meeting. "We have an hour," he told Greg, another tired smile crossing his face.

Stranger: "Why don't you go up and sleep and I'll wake you with fifteen minutes till. You seem really tired," Lestrade said caringly, running his fingers through Mycroft's hair.

You: "Thank you, love," Mycroft replied, leaning into Greg's touch. "Even with all the sleep we got last night, the last several days have taken their toll on me. See you in about 45 minutes." He got up and kissed Greg softly before trudging up the stairs and falling into bed. He'd change again after he got up.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled after Mycroft, watching as he ascended the stairs. He went back to cleaning the kitchen, finishing quickly before he went out to the living room and sitting down in front of the telly, flicking it on.

You: Mycroft was startled from a rather nasty nightmare by Greg shaking his shoulder. He looked up with wide eyes, still seeing remnants of the nightmare. "Greg?" he whispered, taking the other man's hand and holding it tight.

Stranger: "Are you alright? I came up here to put a few things away to hear you panting and moaning. What happened baby?" Lestrade asked, sitting on the side of the bed and holding Mycroft's hand back.

You: "Nightmare," Mycroft replied shortly, surging forward and wrapping Greg into a hug. "It... wasn't pleasant. I'm glad you're here. How much longer until our meeting?"

Stranger: "We still have half an hour," Lestrade said, wrapping his arms around Mycroft and holding him close. "Want to tell me what it was about?"

You: "I dreamt your pneumonia was worse than it was," Mycroft murmured, tucking his head into the crook of Greg's shoulder. "I dreamt that you didn't wake up... that you'd died."

Stranger: "Oh, Mycroft," Lestrade whispered, running his fingers through Mycroft's dampened hair. "I'm here, okay? I'll always be here. Now how about we go take a quick shower? You're all sweaty now."

You: "Yes, I think I'll do that," Mycroft replied, though his hold didn't loosen for several moments. "I love you, Greg. It terrifies me to think of losing you."

Stranger: "Then stop thinking about it, love," Lestrade chuckled before he stood and held his hand out to Mycroft. "Come on, let's get you cleaned up and looking adorable."

You: Mycroft chuckled weakly and stood up to take Greg's hand. They walked into the bathroom and Mycroft got the shower ready while keeping Greg in his sight at all times.

Stranger: Lestrade pulled Mycroft towards him when it looked like the shower was going. He started to work on the buttons on Mycroft's shirt before sliding the cloth over his shoulders. He started on the pants next, letting them fall and kissing Mycroft lightly. He let the boxers fall with the pants before he pushed Mycroft gently into the shower, following him after taking his clothes off as well.

You: "You didn't have to come with me," Mycroft said, embarrassment coloring his cheeks. Though that didn't stop him from hugging Greg again like the man was going to disappear in a moment.

Stranger: "Why? Suddenly self-conscious?" Lestrade laughed, kissing Mycroft gently on the lips. He took the soap and started to pour some onto his hands, massaging Mycroft's shoulders gently.

You: "Not self-conscious, just... I'm not a child," Mycroft replied. "I don't need you to follow me everywhere after a nightmare." Though he leaned into Greg's touch again, putting a small lie to the words.

Stranger: "Do you want me to leave?" Lestrade frowned, rinsing his hands in the warm water. "I just thought you wanted me to be here. Sorry." He reached to start out of the shower.

You: "No, I don't want you to leave," Mycroft said, gripping Lestrade's shoulder and pulling him back. "I'm sorry, I'm just rattled from the nightmare. Stay, please?" He took the soap and started rubbing it across Greg's shoulders and down his arms, caressing the skin with his fingers.

Stranger: Lestrade nodded and leaned forward to peck Mycroft's lips gently. "I just don't want you to think I'm too clingy or anything," Lestrade muttered against Mycroft's lips, pulling back. "I'm sorry."

You: "No, you're not," Mycroft murmured. "And I didn't want to feel like I was holding you too tightly. But we don't have much time if we want to make our appointment. Every time I speak with Sherlock, he urges me to hurry."

Stranger: Lestrade sighed and nodded, helping Mycroft finish washing his hair and washing his own before rinsing and turning off the water. "I'm sorry, love. I love you," Lestrade whispered, pecking Mycroft's lips before he went into the bedroom, towel around his waist.

You: "I love you," Mycroft replied, taking a moment to watch Greg walk in front of him and grin. Yes, he rather enjoyed the towels, especially when wrapped around a certain detective inspector. Mycroft followed and dressed, sneaking glances at Greg as the other man changed.

Stranger: Lestrade finished changing and went over to the mirror to work on his tie. No matter how many times he did it, he was never getting any better at it, so he worked at it with a concentrated look on his face, trying to get the knot to go a certain way.

You: Mycroft finished dressing, not bothering with a tie. He watched Greg for a few moments, smiling fondly at the intense concentration on the other man's face. "You want help, love?" he finally asked, moving behind Greg and wrapping his arms around him.

Stranger: "I guess, I just can't get it today. And I want to look good for this meeting. I guess I'm just nervous."

You: "It's all right," Mycroft said, stepping around to start working on the tie. "You remember the cases and you are important in your own right. People listen to you and you can read them well."

Stranger: Lestrade smiled when Mycroft stepped away and his tie was perfect. "Thank you, love," Lestrade whispered, kissing Mycroft gently. "Are you ready? If we leave now, we'll have five minutes to set up."

You: "Yes, let's go," Mycroft nodded and led the way downstairs. He picked up the file from the table and headed out to the car, choosing to take his car and drive today.

Stranger: Lestrade got into the car next to Mycroft, taking the file from his love. "Is everything here?" he asked, flipping through the file.

You: Mycroft nodded as he started the car and drove towards New Scotland Yard. "I made sure of that before I went to sleep," he explained. They made it to the building with 10 minutes to spare and hurried up to the superintendent's office.

Stranger: Lestrade set the folder on the table and sat down in one of the chairs, Mycroft sitting next to him. He took one of his hands under the table and squeezed it lightly.

You: "So, your assistant said you had some information for me, Mr. Holmes," the superintendent, a man by the name of Carson Wellers, said. "Care to elaborate?"

Stranger: Lestrade watched as Mycroft stood, releasing his hand and going into total business mode. Lestrade handed him the folder and watched as he passed the first piece of paper to his superintendent.

You: "These are Sherlock's cases from beginning to end," Mycroft began, waiting while Wellers read the paper. "I have proof that Richard Brook was a fake and not Sherlock. He helped solve all these cases, not planned them."

Stranger: "And what proof would that be?" Wellers asked, reading the paper quickly. He looked back up at Mycroft and waited for the answer.

You: "All of the information about his career was falsified," Mycroft replied, a touch smugly. "I had a few analysts going through the CV Kitty Riley had and every piece was fake. A very convincing fake, but fake nonetheless."

Stranger: "And do you have paperwork to prove that?" Wellers asked, raising an eyebrow.

You: "I do, yes," Mycroft nodded. "That paperwork will be on the frontlines of the paper tomorrow. This meeting is about Sherlock's cases."

Stranger: Wellers sighed heavily, leaning back in his chair. "Go on then," he said, waving them on.

You: Mycroft placed some more papers on the table, his own notes and the notes he'd taken while going through the cases with Greg. "DI Lestrade was the one who worked most closely with Sherlock," Mycroft explained. "I'll let him tell you about the cases."

Stranger: Lestrade stood and moved next to Mycroft, waiting for the questions that Wellers was sure to ask.

You: "All right, keep it simple," Wellers ordered, glaring at Lestrade. "Explain to me why you believe this Sherlock Holmes wasn't the mastermind behind all the cases. Start with these early ones."

Stranger: "Well, sir," Lestrade started. "In the first case we have here, one our friend called "A Study in Pink," Sherlock had come to the scene in a cab, driven by the same cabby who had killed Mrs. Jennifer Wilson, at the time, Sherlock didn't have a clue that this case was a murder. He only figured that out when he discovered that her case had been missing."

You: "Her case. How did he know about it if he hadn't planned the whole thing?" Wellers asked suspiciously.

Stranger: "Splash marks on the back of her calf. It had been raining that day, causing mud to run the streets. As she pulled her case behind her, the case splashed mud onto the back of her leg," Lestrade explained, passing Weller one of the photos of the case, a picture of Mrs. Wilson, the splash marks obvious.

You: He studied them, nodding as it made sense to him. "All right, I can see that. And this man, he just observes all of this?" Wellers asked.

Stranger: "That's correct," Mycroft chimed in. "My brother could... see more than the average person. He paid more attention to the small details that others tend to look over, including myself. He's been doing it since he was a kid. Smart boy."

You: "Fine, I believe you on this case," Wellers said, dropping the papers and pushing them back towards Lestrade. "Convince me of the others."

Stranger: Lestrade started off on the other cases, Mycroft adding things in here and there. As they finished the last case, Lestrade fell quiet and waited for Mycroft to finish up.

You: "So, there are instances in every case that prove Sherlock could not have been the one to set them up," Mycroft concluded. "I can also have the paperwork sent to you that proves Richard Brook a fake."

Stranger: Wellers sighed and looked between the two men for a few minutes. After a few minutes of thinking, he nodded slowly. "Alright," he finally said. "I believe you. Sherlock Holmes could not have set up these cases."

You: "Good," Mycroft said decisively, nodding. "And would you condone him working on cases again, should he ever happen to come back?"

Stranger: Wellers shot Mycroft a strange look, an eyebrow shooting up. "You do realize that is impossible, correct?" he said slowly, as though unsure if Mycroft were only kidding. "Is there something you are not telling me, Mr. Holmes?"

You: "There are many things I am not telling you, Superintendent Wellers," Mycroft replied smoothly, shooting a glance at Greg when he heard the man fight back a laugh. "However, my question still stands. Is this enough for Sherlock to be exonerated?"

Stranger: "Theoretically speaking, of course, yes, there is," Wellers said, shooting Lestrade a quizzical glance when he heard the man cough back a laugh. "But I must ask you again, Mr. Holmes. You do realize that is impossible, correct?"

You: "Yes, but I could quote you Shakespeare," Mycroft replied, allowing a small grin to break out over his face. "There are more things in heaven and earth, Horatio, than are dreamt of in your philosophy. Keep an open mind, superintendent, and thank you for your time."

Stranger: Wellers could only watch as the two men packed up their stuff and left the room. As soon as the door closed behind them, Lestrade turned to Mycroft. "I think he thinks you've gone crazy," he chuckled quietly.

You: "He can think whatever he likes as long as we accomplished what we wanted," Mycroft replied, laughing as well. He wrapped an arm over Greg's shoulders and pressed a quick kiss to his lips, celebrating their victory.

Stranger: "So what next, hun?" Lestrade chuckled, leaning in closer to Mycroft as they walked, exiting the building and heading to the car.

You: "We work on Sherlock's reputation and prove Richard Brook a fake," Mycroft replied, throwing the file in the backseat then sliding into the front. "And that is fairly well underway already."

Stranger: "Is there any way I can help?" Lestrade asked as he climbed into the passenger seat with a quiet grunt.

You: "I think you've done everything you can for now," Mycroft replied thoughtfully, pulling out into traffic and deciding to head to one of their favorite restaurants. "Though, once the media gets on the story, you may be asked for interviews and the like."

Stranger: "Alright," he nodded slowly, watching the road. He felt completely safe with Mycroft, but was still cautious about being in a car since his accident. "But you know I can always help more if you need it. I don't want you to overwork yourself if I can do something to help."

You: "I know, love, and I appreciate it," Mycroft replied, glancing towards Greg and giving him a fond smile. "But, for right now, I think lunch might be what we need to worry about."

Stranger: Chuckling lightly, Lestrade nodded eagerly. "I agree, I'm starved."

You: Mycroft smiled again and finished the drive to the restaurant. He got out of the car, meeting Greg as he got out on his side and they walked hand-in-hand inside. Mycroft nodded to the hostess and they were seated at the table they usually took.

Stranger: Lestrade sat across from Mycroft and placed his hand on his knee under the table. "I know you're going to be really busy the next few weeks, or even months, but I hope I can drag you away once in a while for some time alone," he said, rubbing his thumb over the fabric.

You: "I'm sure I can pencil some time in," Mycroft said wryly, a slow smile crossing his face. "What kind of activities did you have in mind?"

Stranger: "You know, the usual," Lestrade muttered, leaning forward and sliding his hand up Mycroft's leg. "Dinner, movies - other things." He winked, running his hand close to Mycroft's member and brushing it gently under the table, letting one finger slide across the fabric that held it.

You: Mycroft was interrupted before he could answer by one of the waitresses. He ordered, already knowing what he wanted and waited while Greg did the same. Once the waitress left, he looked back at Greg, allowing a knowing look to fill his eyes. "Yes, I think that sounds good," he said.

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled before he leaned forward and brushed Mycroft's member again, slower this time. He was thankful for the table cover that draped over the edge and fell to the floor. He sat back up and smiled knowingly at Mycroft.

You: Mycroft met the smile, twining their fingers together on the table. He made small talk waiting for their food, fighting the urge to shift in his chair. He didn't quite want to give Greg that satisfaction, didn't quite want the other man know the reaction he had to him just yet.

Stranger: Lestrade talked back to Mycroft, going along with the small talk. Their food was set in front of them and when Mycroft picked up a fork full of rice, Lestrade reached back under the table and brushed his member again, smirking when his lover jumped.

You: "You're not helping," Mycroft mock-chided him, his eyes darkening as he looked at Greg. "We need to at least finish our meal before we start on those... other plans." He took a bite of his food at a point.

Stranger: "Not really sorry," Lestrade chuckled darkly, turning to his food and eating it with a smirk.

You: Mycroft teased him back, sliding one foot up and down Greg's calf while eating his food with an innocent look on his face. He was disturbed by the beeping of his phone and saw that he had a text from Anthea.

Stranger: Lestrade groaned when he felt Mycroft take his foot away. He watched as he read the message. "W-who was that?" he asked slowly.

You: "Anthea," Mycroft replied, reading the text with a frown. "She's run into a problem with the files on Richard Brook."

Stranger: "What kind of problems?" Lestrade asked, taking a bite of his chicken.

You: "Some of the files seem to have been misplaced," Mycroft said absently, a worry-line appearing between his eyebrows. "She's wondering if I took them on accident."

Stranger: "Well, did you?" Lestrade asked slowly, swallowing and placing his fork down on the plate. "I hope you did. That would be- an easy fix..."

You: "I don't know. It's entirely possible," Mycroft said, typing a quick reply to Anthea telling her he'd check. "If not, I'm worried over what that could mean."

Stranger: "What could it mean?" Lestrade asked slowly, a sickening feeling dropping into his stomach.

You: "It could mean that we didn't get all of IOU," Mycroft replied slowly, shaking his head. "But, everything Sherlock and I found showed that we got all of them. I don't know what could have happened."

Stranger: "Baby," Lestrade muttered, stopping. He thought over what Sherlock was doing, how much contact he had had with John. "He's been using his name, hasn't he?" he asked slowly. "With the agents. Please tell me you told him to use his fake name..."

You: "I did but that doesn't mean he's using it," Mycroft said dryly. Then, another thought crossed his mind. "Though, one of my agents had turned and tried to have Sherlock killed. She may have something to do with this."

Stranger: "Could she be another part of IOU? Another branch?" Lestrade asked slowly, thoughts coming to him quickly - new worries. "Moran did try to bring John into the IOU... could he have done the same with others?"

You: Mycroft sighed sadly, feeling a weight settle onto his shoulders. "I don't think so, considering the amount of time he spent here in London after the others were killed," he said. "But it is entirely possible. However, I probably shouldn't worry too much until I check that file."

Stranger: "We should finish up then... I don't want to rush what little time we may have together for a while, but this is more important. And seeing tonight might not happen now... Maybe I'll see if I can drag John out of his flat for a little," Lestrade said, trying to keep the disappointment out of his voice and features.

You: "I'm sorry, Greg," Mycroft offered, his mouth turning down into a scowl. "I promise we'll have more time soon. And getting John out of his flat is probably a good idea."

Stranger: "I want you so badly," Lestrade muttered, running his fingers over Mycroft's knee. "Oh well, I'll get you when you're free."

You: "Of course you will," Mycroft agreed, taking Greg's hand and squeezing it. "Besides, once this six months is over and Sherlock is back, I won't be nearly as busy. And we can have our wedding."

Stranger: "Our wedding... I can't believe it," Lestrade half muttered, a smile crossing over his face. "I'm going to be married to the most wonderful man in the world in just a matter of months. I hope I can keep this one and not fuck it up..."

You: "I could say the same thing, love," Mycroft reminded him gently. "We'll just have to keep each other safe and sane." He finished up the last few bites of his meal, sighing at what might be the end of their time together.

Stranger: Lestrade finished his meal slowly. "I know we can do it," he said after he swallowed his last mouthful of chicken. "I mean... It's us. I love you more than I've ever loved anyone else. I want to keep you as mine. If we get tired of each other, which, for me, I know won't happen, we'll just have to take a vacation away. I'm just glad you understand my work time. That's what's killed most of my relationships..."

You: "I have much the same hours," Mycroft replied, shaking his head. "We are both very busy men when it comes to our jobs. The trick is to make the most of the time we have together. And, it doesn't hurt that I can usually finagle more time if we feel we need it." He paid the check, drawing Greg up beside him. "And speaking of work, I'm afraid it's time to get back to it."

Stranger: "Let's go check the file first. I know it's a very small chance you made a mistake and took the wrong papers as well, but I just hope, for once, you did," Lestrade said, drawing closer to Mycroft.

You: "For once, I do too," Mycroft replied darkly, moving quickly out to the car but not relinquishing his hold on Greg's hand. Once there, he pulls out the file and flips through it hurriedly.

Stranger: "And..?" Lestrade asked as Mycroft threw the folder back down to the seat, himself wrapping his arms around Mycroft's waist to hold him closer.

You: "They're here," Mycroft breathed with obvious relief. He sagged against the car door, adrenaline leaving him in a rush. "I took them, must have when I was working this morning."

Stranger: Lestrade wrapped an arm around Mycroft as he leaned on the car next to him. He looked him over out of the corner of his eye, his want - his need for him growing. He pulled him closer and leaned up to press a kiss to his neck. "Mycroft, take us home. Now," he growled low into his ear.

You: Mycroft straightened, a light groan working it way out of his throat as Greg kissed him and he felt his breath hiss over his ear. "All right," he said quietly, moving carefully towards the driver's side. Sheer relief was making him clumsy, a very new sensation to him.

Stranger: Lestrade got into the passenger seat, waiting quietly and sending heated glances at Mycroft as they went home. Lestrade got out before Mycroft could turn the car off and went around to Mycroft's side, pressing him against the car and kissing him roughly as soon as he got out. "Back seat," he growled, nipping at Mycroft's lip.

You: "Impatient are we, Greg?" Mycroft asked slyly, though he did slither into the backseat and draped himself across the bench. "What did you have in mind for back here?" He couldn't help but smirk as Greg followed him, a hungry look on his face.

Stranger: Lestrade climbed after him and continued to kiss him roughly. He kept it rough as he went down to Mycroft's neck, his hands roaming his body till he found Mycroft's pant's button. "You bloody well know what," he growled, popping the button open.

You: "Maybe I do," Mycroft gasped, his fingers winding into Greg's hair and anchoring there. "But maybe I'd like to hear you explain what you want to do." He ground his hips up into Greg's hand, groaning at the feeling.

Stranger: "I'm going to take you, hard, right here, right now," Lestrade growled, kissing Mycroft's neck and working it as his hands worked Mycroft's zipper and pants. "I'm going to pound you so hard into this seat you won't be able to walk or sit for a month."

You: "Slightly problematic," Mycroft joked, though all his breath slammed out of him when Greg finally wormed his hand underneath his pants. "I think I can handle it, though." He tugged on Greg's hair to pull the man's hair back, capturing his lips and kissing him roughly.

Stranger: "We'll see," Lestrade growled before he stripped Mycroft of his pants, crawling down awkwardly and taking Mycroft's half erect member into his mouth, teasing at it.

You: Mycroft moaned loudly, his fingers massaging over Greg's scalp. He shifted his legs apart as far as they would go to give the other man more room, the car an awkward and confining space to be doing this in. But, oh, it felt sinfully, wonderfully good. "God, Greg, don't stop," Mycroft panted. "I love feeling your mouth around me."

Stranger: Lestrade popped off and glared up at Mycroft. "No intention to," he smirked before he took Mycroft in and swallowed the member, swallowing around him.

You: Mycroft groaned again, feeling himself hardening completely very quickly. He settled back, letting Greg have the control he apparently craved, enjoying everything the other man was doing to him. It wasn't long before he was squirming on the seat, begging and pleading with broken gasps.

Stranger: Lestrade felt Mycroft harden on his tongue and knew Mycroft was getting close to finishing. He gripped the base of Mycroft's erection and popped off with a wet slurp. "Turn over," he growled, still holding Mycroft's base.

You: "Do the best I can," Mycroft murmured, turning over and squirming around until he finally decided on a position that was comfortable. He ended up kneeling on the seat, facing out the back window. He looked back over his shoulder at Greg, a smile dancing on his lips. "This good?" Mycroft asked.

Stranger: "Damn... Amazing," Lestrade muttered, wasting no time in slipping finger into Mycroft, working a spot on his lower back with his teeth.

You: "Fuck," Mycroft swore, swinging his hips back to meet Greg's finger. He'd realized lately that he had a definite thing for biting and Greg's teeth on his skin was making him even harder. "Pl... please... love...." he stammered, though Mycroft couldn't have said what he was pleading for.

Stranger: "I don't want you to move unless it's me moving you," Lestrade growled, taking Mycroft's hips in his free hand and continuing to suck and work bite marks onto Mycroft's back. He pressed another finger just barely inside, chuckling.

You: "Oh... oh god, ok," Mycroft moaned, stilling his hips with an effort. He bit at his lip, trying to keep himself from moving. It was difficult when all he wanted to do was shove back onto Greg's fingers, taking as much as he could inside. Leaving one hand braced on the top of the seat, Mycroft reached back with the other to grip Greg's hip, a connection between both of them.

Stranger: "You moved," he chuckled, nipping Mycroft's ass just next to his entrance. He removed his fingers and nipped closer.

You: "That... doesn't... count," Mycroft replied, the primness of the words lost in the ragged breaths he took. "Can I at least lean forward for you?" He looked back over his shoulder again, seeing the look of sheer want that came over Greg's face at his words.

Stranger: "Do it," Lestrade hissed, placing a hand on Mycroft's back, his face so close to Mycroft's ass. He nipped the cheek again and chuckled.

You: Mycroft didn't reply, just leaned forward over the back of the seat, nearly draping himself over it. He slid his knees back just enough to arch his hips into the air towards Greg. "Better?" he asked, shooting Greg a grin over his shoulder.

Stranger: "God... You're beautiful," Lestrade muttered before leaning down more and dipping his tongue into Mycroft's entrance. "Draped over a seat, ass in the air; only thing that would make it better is if you're hands were tied."

You: "Next.... time," Mycroft panted, his eyes closing in pleasure. "Greg, please... you feel so good." He concentrated on not moving again, just enjoying the wet sensation of Greg's tongue against his skin.

 

Stranger: "I like the thought... Of doing this... Again," Lestrade growled, taking time to lick deep into the hole. "I love you."

You: Mycroft couldn't reply, all his breath used to keep himself from falling unconscious. He trembled under Greg's onslaught, ragged gasps and deep moans leaving his throat. And when the thought crossed his mind, the fact that they were in the car only heightened his arousal.

Stranger: Lestrade finished licking and sucking on Mycroft's hole. He pulled back, climbing over Mycroft till he was draped over him, the roof of the car pressed gently into his back. It was tight, but it would do. He pushed in slowly, making sure it was agonizing for Mycroft as he slid in, bothering Mycroft's neck with his teeth.

You: Mycroft sighed as he was filled, letting his muscles go slack underneath him. "I love you, Greg," he murmured, letting the seat take his weight. He moved one hand back again to grip Greg's hip, just holding him.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned lightly into Mycroft's neck. "Love you too, Mycroft," Lestrade whispered back, his voice husky. He pushed in as far as he could go, pausing for a moment before pulling back out slowly, his back scraping the roof. He moaned at the friction between his back and his erection as he moved slowly.

You: "Can I move?" Mycroft asked slowly, his fingers tight on Greg's hip. His own erection was throbbing, reminding him that it wanted some attention as well. And the seat was made of leather and would probably provide slick friction.

Stranger: "No, not yet, love," Lestrade growled, pushing slowly into Mycroft again, running his hands down Mycroft's sides, stopping on his stomach and holding the side of him. "What do you want me to do?"

You: "Whatever you want," Mycroft replied, another moan drawn out of his throat. "Please, Greg." The hand bracing himself on the seat clenched hard, his knuckles standing out white.

Stranger: "Grab the headrests," Lestrade growled into Mycroft's ear, glancing at the backseat headrests. "With both hands. I want your shoulders square. One headrest per hand." Lestrade snapped his hips forward, Mycroft being forced forward and towards the trunk of the car, the floor below their heads jerking closer for a short second.

You: Mycroft moved quickly, panting heavily at each of Greg's movements. He gripped the headrests hard, holding himself in place. "What did you have in mind now?" he asked, voice gravelly.

Stranger: "Stop moving," Lestrade growled, slapping Mycroft on the ass before wrapping his arms around Mycroft's chest, just under his arms. He pressed his chest into Mycroft's back, his teeth working at the muscles on Mycroft's shoulder blades. "You're beautiful like this," he muttered, working the skin.

You: Mycroft grunted in surprise as Greg slapped him, though it didn't hurt all that much. And was rather... erotic. He fought to keep himself still and not arch into the teeth worrying at his back. "Greg... please," Mycroft panted. "God, move."

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled at Mycroft's desperate plea and moved slowly, pumping his hips and mouthing Mycroft's shoulder blades still. He licked along the muscle gently, pausing half pulled out of Mycroft. He bucked forward hard to give Mycroft and shock and chuckled when Mycroft almost tumbled over the seat. "Hold tighter," Lestrade growled, chuckling still.

You: "Yeah," Mycroft agreed absently, wrapping his arms around the headrests. He pressed back sharply with his hips, smirking at Greg over his shoulder.

Stranger: Lestrade growled but smirked at his lover. "You bad boy," Lestrade smiled, a glint in his eyes. "Punishment is called for for doing that." He winked.

You: "Bring it on, love," Mycroft replied, leaning back into Greg again. He turned his head enough to press a fevered kiss to Greg's cheek, licking over his cheekbone. "I want you to."

Stranger: Lestrade smirked at that and sank his teeth into Mycroft's neck, hard. He sucked till there was a red mark before sitting up slightly - at least, as much as the roof of the car would let him, which wasn't much at all. His stomach was still pressed to Mycroft, along with his chest, as he reached over to the back seat and grabbed his and Mycroft's tie that they had on for the meeting. "I'm binding you," Lestrade growled close to Mycroft's ear, feeling a shudder go through Mycroft's body.

You: "Yes," Mycroft hissed, unable to stop his hips from jerking back into Greg's again. He didn't fight as he felt his arms being unwound from around the headrests and pulled behind his back. As the tie wrapped around one wrist, Greg tying one end securely around his wrist before pulling the arm back to the headrest. He tied the other end to the headrest and tugged, making sure Mycroft was secure. "You're the only one I trust with this," Mycroft muttered, needing to say the words.

Stranger: "I hope so," Lestrade chuckled. He did the same with the other wrist, pulling it tight. He checked to make sure both hands were bound securely. "Doesn't hurt, does it?" he asked, going back to bite a mark into Mycroft's neck right next to the first one.

You: "Not... at... all," Mycroft panted, tilting his head so that Greg had better access to his neck. He pulled against the ties, relishing in the loss of control. "Now, are you going to move?"

Stranger: "Yes," Lestrade growled, moving his hips in a rhythmic pattern, continuing to line marks around Mycroft's neck. "I want you to struggle," he said suddenly, the idea just hitting him. "I want you to struggle, hard. Beg for your release. Beg for mercy. For the sweet release only I can give you."

You: Mycroft froze for a moment, looking over his shoulder again. He could only see love and a desperate heat in Greg's eyes and that decided him. He pulled at the ties again, pressing back against Greg. "Please," he whispered, his eyes still on Greg's. "Please, love, I need you."

Stranger: "Struggle," Lestrade growled, moving a little faster. "Please, love, struggle for me. I want you to beg for the release I can give you."

You: Curiosity overcame Mycroft and he stopped moving to stare at Greg. "Why?" he asked, confused though his voice was hoarse. "The tying up I understand, but why specifically struggling? Is there some fantasy of yours you've managed to keep from me, love?"

Stranger: "I think it'd be hot," Lestrade pouted. "But nevermind. You've ruined it, love. Oh well." Lestrade went back to biting Mycroft neck, moving slowly.

You: Mycroft rolled his eyes but pressed back against Greg again. "Ruined is such a harsh word," he whispered. "Delayed maybe. Not ruined." He pulled against the ties again, this time harder and twisted his arms as if he was actively trying to get away.

Stranger: "Nope, you've ruined it," Lestrade said, slamming into Mycroft harder, grunting as he surrounded him.

You: "Oh, oh god," Mycroft said, shaking from the force of Greg's movements. He started moving his hips forward and back, further forward with each stroke so that Greg's erection almost left him completely before slamming back in. "God... please.... touch me," Mycroft begged.

Stranger: "Nope," Lestrade smirked, slamming into him again. "Payback."

You: Groaning with each stroke, Mycroft arched his back and pushed back harder against Greg. When he swung forward, he managed to get a little friction against the seat and moaned. He gradually stopped moving back as far, pressing his erection into the leather of the seat.

Stranger: "Getting your pleasure elsewhere are we?" Lestrade asked, wrapping his arm around Mycroft's waist, stopping him. "I'll touch you, just stop."

You: Mycroft leaned his head back onto Greg's shoulder, not stopping the smirk that crossed his face. "Good," he almost purred, turning his head to place kisses on Greg's cheek and neck. "I like feeling you surround me like this. You like it, having me at your mercy?"

Stranger: "Yes, but I hope if I leave you like this long enough, you'll start begging," Lestrade muttered, taking Mycroft's ear in his teeth and tugging. "Maybe struggling."

You: Mycroft jerked as Greg wrapped his fingers around his erection. He wasn't very good at begging to get away; it wasn't something he'd come across in his life. However, he'd try for the man around him and inside him. "Greg, please," Mycroft sighed, his lips barely moving. "Let... let me go." He pulled at the ties, making the leather on the headrests creak in protest.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned at the pleading tone in Mycroft's voice. "K-keep it up," Lestrade moaned. He picked up the pace and moaned again.

You: Mycroft leaned forward again, over the back of the seat, and started bucking back into Greg again. He changed the movement this time, adding a faltering hitch before slamming back as if he wasn't sure this was what he wanted to do. "Untie me," he begged, voice still barely there. "Please, oh god, you have to let me go."

Stranger: Lestrade moaned and bit down on Mycroft's neck again. "God, you're beautiful. Keep going, please, love," Lestrade bucked forward harder, his body moving more against Mycroft, pushing farther forward.

You: Mycroft let his groans build almost to a scream, pulling at the ties again. He met Greg's eyes again, heat simmering in his own. "Release me," he breathed, letting the air ghost over Greg's cheek. "Please, love, I need it."

Stranger: "Do you want to be able to release?" Lestrade asked, a glint in his eye as he kissed the corner of Mycroft's mouth. "Just to come all over the seat as well? To be able to touch me? To feel me move beneath your fingertips?"

You: "Yes," Mycroft said, fighting the urge to go limp. He kept pushing back, letting the pauses get longer and longer. "Please, please, love." A hard pull with his right arm loosened the tie enough that he was able to hook his hand over Greg's arm, a grin pulling at his lips.

Stranger: Lestrade groaned and quickly tightened the tie. He double knotted it before doing the same to the other, just in case, tightening both of them tighter than before. "Next time, I'll need stronger holding equipment. I do have handcuffs..." he mused, pushing in farther and harder, hitting the nerves at last by the way Mycroft screamed.

You: "Next time," Mycroft promised when he got his breath again. "My hands through the slats on the headboard." He sank down on his knees, forcing Greg to follow if he wanted to stay with him. He could feel his legs going numb, which added an interesting dynamic to everything. Hanging his head, as if defeated, Mycroft begged again, "Let.. me.. go, please. Greg, I need release."

Stranger: "God, Mycroft, I'm... so... so close," Lestrade muttered, the pace more panicked and uneven. "C-come for me."

You: "Make me," Mycroft challenged, head still hanging onto his chest. He bucked into Greg's hand harder, the tip of his erection brushing at the leather slick with sweat. Mycroft moaned brokenly at that, feeling the sound vibrate in his chest.

Stranger: Lestrade bucked harder, hitting the bundle of nerves again. He hit it repeatedly a few times, bucking hard.

You: "Please, Greg, let me come," Mycroft begged, gasping at each stroke. "Move faster, love, I want you to own me." He could feel his orgasm building, the warmth pooling in his belly and making him shake. Just a few more thrusts and he thought that would be it.

Stranger: Lestrade thrusted a few more time, as quickly as he could manage. "God... MYCROFT!" he screamed out as his orgasm burst from him, stilling deep inside of Mycroft, his head falling to the man's shoulder blade.

You: Mycroft followed after, feeling the pulsing as Greg released inside him. He gasped sharply, stiffening against the back of the seat and exploding over the leather. He rode out the shocks, grateful that Greg's fingers were gentler on him. "That... was amazing," he panted when he could speak again.

Stranger: Lestrade slumped against Mycroft, panting heavily. "God," Lestrade moaned, pulling out of Mycroft and rolling so he could sit next to him, his head falling back.

You: Mycroft slumped into the seat as far as he could, pulling at the ties through sheer exhaustion. He curled his legs to the side, straightening them carefully as feeling slowly came back. "Can you untie me now, love?" he asked, a wry smile touching his lips. "I really want to wrap my arms around you right now."

Stranger: "Oh, now you beg," Lestrade chuckled, leaning up to kiss Mycroft roughly. "I don't know, I kinda like you like this."

You: Mycroft leaned into the kiss, nipping at Greg's lip teasingly. "I can tell. I rather enjoy it, too, though I could wish for a more comfortable location."

Stranger: "But you're so hot bound and naked," Lestrade chuckled, nipping Mycroft's ear, one hand trailing up Mycroft's arm to the knot, playing one finger around it.

You: "And if you untie me, we can continue this in the bedroom," Mycroft told him, turning his head and capturing Greg's lips. "You can use your handcuffs if you like."

Stranger: Lestrade shook his head slowly. "That will be for another night," he muttered, kissing him lightly. "Now hold still." He went to the first knot and started working at it, it having tightened when Mycroft was struggling. "Give me a minute here."

You: Mycroft lifted his arms to put some slack on the ties and waited with slowly fading patience as Greg worked at the knots. He heaved a sigh of relief as the first one came loose and he was able to pull his hand out of it. Wrapping it around Greg, he pulled the other man to him for a quick kiss. "Hope this fulfilled the fantasy you had," he murmured, ducking his head so Greg didn't see the embarrassment in his face. "It was... new, for me."

Stranger: "Did you enjoy it?" Lestrade asked, raising Mycroft's head by tilting his chin up with a finger. "I don't want you to feel uncomfortable."

You: "It was a bit at first," Mycroft admitted. "But it was kind of fun once I got into it. I don't know that it's something I would enjoy frequently, though."

Stranger: "Oh, no, if we do it frequently, it wouldn't be special. Maybe you can try me? I've never done it before either," Lestrade admitted.

You: "Of course. I think it would be interesting to tie you up," Mycroft smiled, placing another kiss on Greg's lips. "Maybe a blindfold so you never know where I'm going to touch you next. But, maybe we can work on the tie first? I don't want to get arrested here, much as this driveway is secluded."

Stranger: "Right," Lestrade chuckled going for the other tie. He reached awkwardly over Mycroft, his body pressed tightly against Mycroft's side as he worked the knot. "Damn these knots. They tightened when you were moving..."

You: Chuckling, Mycroft tried to put as much slack into the tie as he could. "You're the one who wanted me to struggle," Mycroft said lightly. "I would say this argues for a job well done."

Stranger: "Shut up, love," Lestrade growled, the knot not loosening. "Let me get around you here," he muttered, trying to shift to get a better angle at the knot.

You: Moving his legs, Mycroft let Greg slither over him and settle on the other side of the seat. He could help but lay his head on Greg's shoulder, watching as the other man worked at the knot. "Handcuffs would be faster," Mycroft observed, a wry smile on his lips.

Stranger: "I know it would have," Lestrade muttered. The knot finally fell apart and Lestrade took Mycroft's hand in his. "Sorry about that," he muttered, leaning in to kiss Mycroft gently, forming their fingers together.

You: "It's all right, love," Mycroft replied, wrapping his free arm around Greg's waist and holding him. Resting his head on Greg's shoulder, Mycroft just sat and breathed in the other man. "How is it you always get me to push my boundaries?" he asked, a wondering note in his voice.

Stranger: "You love me?" Lestrade tried with a chuckle, kissing Mycroft's neck and laughing. "I guess that's why?"

You: "I do love you," Mycroft agreed, cuddling a little closer. He sighed as a car horn honked on the street, reminding him that they were a bit exposed in the backseat. "We should probably get our clothes on and head inside," Mycroft said, a bit sadly.

Stranger: "Fine," Lestrade sighed, cuddling closer and reaching between the seats. "Where did my pants go, anyway?"

You: Mycroft looked over the car, laughing as he saw Greg's pants resting over the steering wheel. "There they are," he said, pointing. He untangled himself from Greg to look for his own clothes, shimmying into them awkwardly.

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled and awkwardly reached for his pants, trying, and failing, to not shove his ass in Mycroft's face. "Sorry, love," Lestrade blushed over his shoulder as he reached.

You: Mycroft laughed and stroked a fingertip over Greg's hip and over his ass. "Not complaining, love," he said teasingly. "Though I do like seeing you blush. It's cute."

Stranger: Lestrade blushed deeper and quickly sat back down. "Shut up," he blushed, hiding his face.

You: Mycroft just chuckled and buttoned up his shirt. He gathered up the papers they'd scattered into the footwell, not even that worried over the crumpled appearance of some of the pages.

Stranger: Lestrade dressed quickly, his face still burning slightly. "I love you," he muttered, cuddling close.

You: "I love you," Mycroft replied, brushing his fingers through Greg's hair. "Though we can't stay here for much longer." He pressed a kiss to Greg's temple.

Stranger: "Why? We're dressed," Lestrade asked, moving to go to the car door. "Do we need to do anything else today, by the way? Or are you free?"

You: "I'm free unless I get called," Mycroft replied, running his fingers across the back of Greg's neck before getting out of the car. "Anthea should be able to handle her end of things and I shouldn't have to do anything more until the newspapers run the story I gave my contact."

Stranger: "Well, I was hoping we can watch a movie," Lestrade said as he took Mycroft's hand, linking their fingers. "Just cuddle and relax, you know?"

You: Mycroft walked up to the door, nodding as he went. "Yes, I think that sounds good," he said, smiling. He unlocked the door, dropping the file on the table in the hallway. "Though I think a shower first might be a good thing."

Stranger: "Together?" Lestrade asked hopefully. He pulled Mycroft closer when the door shut behind them.

You: "No, separately," Mycroft joked, capturing Greg's lips and teasing at the seam with his tongue. "Of course together. You pick a movie and I'll get tea for us."

Stranger: "Now?" Lestrade asked, raising an eyebrow at his lover. "I thought you wanted a shower?"

You: Mycroft sighed and smiled. "Yes, a shower is probably a good idea," Mycroft said, pressing a kiss to Greg's cheek. "I think I'm tired to completely forget that."

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled and took Mycroft's hand, starting up to the bathroom. "Should I worry about you?" he joked, placing a kiss to the corner of Mycroft's mouth to soften the words.

You: "I'd hope not but you can if you like," Mycroft joked, twining their fingers together. When they reached the bedroom, Mycroft dropped Greg's hand to start undressing. He dropped the clothes in the laundry basket, sending Greg a heated look before heading into the bathroom.

Stranger: Lestrade followed Mycroft's lead, following him into the bathroom and watching as Mycroft doubled over to start the water. "Oh, don't do that," Lestrade moaned, unable to take his eyes off Mycroft's ass in the air. "You should know better." He slapped him playfully on the cheek and chuckled when he jumped.

You: Mycroft looked over his shoulder and rolled his eyes, though a smile teased at the corners of his mouth. "Shower and movie first, love," Mycroft admonished, turning to pull Greg into a hug.

Stranger: "Then don't bend over," Lestrade teased before he took the embrace Mycroft offered. When they released each other, they stepped into the shower, Lestrade hissing in pleasure as the hot water ran over his skin.

You: "You know, I love the little sounds you make," Mycroft whispered, wrapping his arms around Greg's waist and pressing against his back. He moved just enough to get soap and began rubbing it over the other man's chest.

Stranger: "And I love you," Lestrade chuckled, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to Mycroft's nose.

You: Mycroft chuckled and continued to run the soap over Greg's skin. When he was done with that, he threaded his fingers into Greg's hair, massaging the soap over his scalp. "Rinse, love," Mycroft said, giving Greg a little push towards the water.

Stranger: Lestrade smiled and backed into the water, pulling Mycroft with him. He rinsed off and gave Mycroft a push towards the other side of the shower. He took the soap and started washing him, running his hands over his shoulders like he did him. "You're adorable," he whispered, smiling.

You: "Thank you," Mycroft said quietly, leaning back a little into Greg's touch. Closing his eyes, Mycroft let the sensations fill his mind. "I love you, Greg."

Stranger: "I love you," Lestrade repeated with a grin. When he was finished with Mycroft's hair, he backed him into the water and started to rinse his hair clean of soap. "I love your hair, it's so soft, love."

You: "It's nothing I really do," Mycroft demurred, his eyes still closed as water ran over him. Once he could feel the water run clear, he leaned forward and opened his eyes, meeting Greg's.

Stranger: "Then you're very lucky," Lestrade shrugged, seeing it was lost with Mycroft. "What?" he asked as Mycroft's eyes met his.

You: Mycroft kept the eye contact for several seconds, trying to parse through everything he was feeling at the moment. "You," he finally said, stepping forward and slowly wrapping his arms around Greg. "It just struck me all over again that you're here, you put up with me."

Stranger: "Put up with you?" he questioned, cocking his head to the side. "Explain?"

You: Mycroft hesitated, turning to shut the water off to give himself more time to stall. He even stepped out of the shower, handing a towel to Greg before tying one around himself. "I told you that I'm a difficult man," he began, not looking at Greg. "I'm just happy that you choose to stay with me even with all that."

Stranger: Lestrade let a laugh bubble out of his throat, unable to help himself. He calmed himself when Mycroft sent him a slightly hurt, confused look. "Mycroft, I understand all that. You know I'm just as difficult; working hours, past relationships and marriages - all of that. You put up with me. I think I'm the one that should be surprised, not you."

You: Mycroft turned then, a smile crossing his face. "Looks like we both have issues from our past. I'm just glad I managed to overcome mine and get you to agree to a date with me." He winked at Greg then, the move a little strange but he hoped it would draw another laugh from the other man.

Stranger: Lestrade giggled quietly before blushing at the sound. He hurried from the room, a towel wrapped around his hips, and basically ran towards the bedroom.

You: "Shy now, love?" Mycroft called after him, following at a leisurely pace. "You weren't so shy earlier in the car." He pulled a pair of jeans and a shirt out of the wardrobe and dressed quickly.

Stranger: "Shut up," Lestrade smiled, throwing his towel at Mycroft and pulling on his boxers and jeans. He stood up straight and chuckled as it hit him in the face.

You: "You ready for the movie now?" Mycroft asked, holding out a hand for Greg to take. "I think it's your turn to pick."

Stranger: "Yeah," Lestrade said as he took Mycroft's hand. "Is it? I really don't remember. Let's just pick one together this time, shall we?"

You: "Works for me," Mycroft replied, walking back downstairs. He stopped in front of the shelves holding their movies, letting his eyes skip over the titles as he wondered what he was in the mood for tonight. "What do you want to watch, love?"

Stranger: Lestrade shrugged with a hum. "I don't know," he said at length, his eyes looking over the DVD cases and a frown crossing his lips. "You?"

You: "You feel like a horror?" Mycroft asked, gesturing towards that section of the shelf. "I wouldn't mind cuddling with you trying to ignore what's on the screen." He let a smile cross his lips again, glancing over at Greg.

Stranger: "I want you to enjoy the movie too, though," Lestrade frowned, looking up at Mycroft.

You: "I like horrors," Mycroft admitted, pulling out one of the movies. "I just like the idea of wrapping myself around you on the couch."

Stranger: "Okay then," Lestrade laughed, pulling Mycroft closer to his hip. "Horror it is."

You: "Here, you put the movie in," Mycroft said, handing the case to Greg and kissing his cheek. "I'll go get us tea."

Stranger: "Okay baby," Lestrade smiled, going over to the DVD player and bending over it, messing with it and working it till he figured out how to put the DVD in.

You: Mycroft walked into the kitchen, preparing everything they needed for tea. As he placed teacups on a tray waiting for the water to boil, he heard his phone beep in his pocket. Pulling it out, he read a text from Anthea.  
Have you seen the afternoon edition of the paper yet? - Anthea

Stranger: No, why? Is there something in it that requires my attention? -MH

You: I just thought you should know that the first headlines are running. Everywhere I go, I hear people talking about Richard Brook and Sherlock. - Anthea

Stranger: That's great news! I'm shocked it's taken off that quickly. -MH

You: Perhaps, though the things I've heard are not complementary. Most people seem to believe that this is a last-ditch effort to smear Richard Brook. - Anthea

Stranger: Oh? I'll take a look at it all later on tonight when we receive the paper, it has failed to reach us yet. Thank you, Anthea. -MH

You: Of course. I shall keep an eye on the headlines in the next few days. - Anthea

Stranger: Perfect, and again, thank you. -MH

You: Mycroft heard the kettle boiling and slipped the phone back into his pocket. He poured the water into a teapot and carried the tray out to the living room. He poured for both of them, handing Greg his cup. "Time for the movie," Mycroft said, sitting back on the couch.

Stranger: "Yep, it's all set up," Lestrade smiled, nodding at the screen and smiling as he took the cup from Mycroft. "Thank you, love. Are you ready?" He held up the remote and smiled at Mycroft as the other man settled in next to him.

You: Mycroft watched as Greg started the movie, insinuating himself under Greg's arm and curling up next to him. He really did enjoy horror movies but he could never pass up the change to be so close to the man he loved.

\-----------------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: Sherlock woke up the next morning, blinking against the harsh sunlight that had battled it's way into his window. He moaned as he blocked the light from his eyes and moved to swing his legs over the edge of the bed. He was never a morning person.

You: His phone was flashing it's text message warning and Sherlock opened it to read the message.  
You can go see the last agent today. She is available and in her flat. - Anthea

Stranger: Will do. -SH  
Sherlock stood from his bed and scrubbed a hand over his face, grunting as he walked to the kitchen and sat down, pulling the cereal he had bought towards him along with a bowl and spoon. He grabbed the milk and poured some over the dry cereal before taking a lazy bite and flipping his phone open, going through his old messages with John.

You: Andrea Brown was waking up in her flat, profoundly thankful that she had made it through the past few days. The drug lord she was working for had decided to engage in a turf war with one of his rival gangs and had called in everyone to be foot soldiers. She'd barely been able to get notice to Mycroft to tell him to delay his operative.

Stranger: Sherlock shook his head and closed his phone before standing a dumping the bowl into the sink, figuring he'd clean it... eventually. He got dressed and headed out into the falling snow, sighing up at the sky and watching his breath rise. He just wanted this weather to be over with. It was getting annoying, in all honestly. Slowly, he started down the sidewalk.

You: Andrea pushed herself out of bed, taking a quick shower before the operative showed up. From what she understood with the text from Anthea, the man could be showing up at any time today. Once done, she made breakfast and kept tea boiling to be hospitable when he arrived.

Stranger: Sherlock made his way to a bus stop, waiting on the cold bench for the ride to show. Half an hour later, Sherlock was freezing, cold, and even more upset than he was before. He dragged himself onto the bus and took a seat near the back, watching out the window as he shivered, the buildings rushing past.

You: About an hour after breakfast, Andrea was watching something inane on television when a knock sounded at her door. She got up and looked through the peephole, calling, "Who is it?" She studied the man she saw, impressed with his clear blue eyes.

Stranger: "Kamatayan, ilog ay nagpapatakbo ng pilak," Sherlock pronounced clearly, keeping his hands shoved in his pockets and attempting to control his shivering, failing horribly.

You: "Andrea opened the door without another word, recognizing the code word. She saw that the man was pale with cold and fighting back shudders. "I've got tea, if you like," she offered, waving him inside. "You look cold."

Stranger: "P-please," Sherlock stuttered, stepping into the slightly warmer flat. He stood in the living room, waiting while the agent went to get the tea.

You: She poured hot water into two cups, dropping tea bags in them. She carried them back out, handing one to the agent and sitting down in her chair. "Name's Andrea," she said after taking a sip. "How about you?"

Stranger: "Sherlock," he muttered, taking a sip and letting the warmth take him. "Sherlock Holmes."

You: "You're Mycroft's brother, aren't you?" Andrea asked, her voice shocked. "I thought you were dead. I heard about the scandal a few years ago."

Stranger: "Yes, I am. I faked my death. I had to," he explained, motioning to a chair, he asked, "May I sit?"

You: "Of course," Andrea replied, nodding at the other chair. "So, that makes me curious. Why did you fake your death?"

Stranger: Sherlock sat with a nod of thanks and took a long sip of the tea before answering. He settled on the truth and set his cup in his lap. "This man I had been chasing cornered me on a rooftop. He said if I didn't jump, he would kill three of my closest friends. One of them, my closest friend, John Watson... well..." Sherlock trailed off for a second, taking another sip before continuing. "He means more to me than my life. I couldn't let him die from my battle. I just couldn't lose him."

You: Andrea sipped her tea, studying Sherlock. She could see the loss in his eyes as he spoke and wondered how long he'd been away from his friends. Almost three years if she remembered the time of the headlines correctly. "I can understand that," Andrea finally said. "It's not often people find someone that important."

Stranger: "No, it's not..." Sherlock muttered, lost in thoughts. "Especially one who feels the same." He chuckled dryly, shaking his head. "But we were both too stupid to see it... till it was too late, anyway."

You: "I'm sorry," Andrea said honestly, tipping her head at Sherlock. "But you're not dead. Surely you have a chance to go back to him? Tell him what happened?"

Stranger: "Yes, but it'll take a while," Sherlock sighed. "Not to mention... if he doesn't take me back at all."

You: "You just said it was mutual, the caring you had for each other," Andrea pointed out logically. "I've always found that it makes missions harder if you think you're going to fail beforehand."

Stranger: "Yes, but you would take back someone who lied to you about their death?" Sherlock asked, meeting Andrea's eyes.

You: "Depends on why," Andrea replied, shrugging. She sipped her tea, hissing a bit at the heat then said, "If someone close to me lied to protect me, I'd at least hear them out first."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded, not totally convinced but unwilling to continue the conversation. "Thanks," he muttered.

You: "You're welcome. Are you feeling any warmer yet?" Andrea asked, letting the subject drop. She didn't see him shivering anymore and his skin had lost the pale look it had had earlier.

Stranger: "A lot, yes, thank you," Sherlock nodded, polishing off his tea.

You: "Let me just go get the report for Mycroft," Andrea said, setting her tea on the table and getting up. She walked into her bedroom, opening the safe in the wall quickly. This was actually the main reason she'd rented this flat rather than some of the others she'd looked at. Carrying the file back to Sherlock, she handed it over before reclaiming her cup of tea. "Any other orders for me?"

Stranger: "Mycroft will be in touch if any comes up, but at the moment, no," Sherlock nodded, taking the folder and tucking it under his arm. "Anything else you need to add?"

You: "No, nothing that isn't in that file," Andrea said, shaking her head. "Stay warm out there and good luck, Sherlock."

Stranger: "Thank you, you too, Andrea," Sherlock stood and placed his cup on the table. He smiled at her before he shut the door behind him, shoving his hands in his pockets and bracing for the cold.

You: "Well, that was interesting," Andrea said to herself before cleaning up the tea things. She had some things to finish before dealing with the drug ring again tonight.

Stranger: Sherlock closed the door behind him and pulled out his phone, dialing Mycroft. "I-I finished h-here. Ready for the n-next location," he stuttered, shivering and without waiting for preamble from Mycroft.

You: "Good, I'll call you with the details for the flight to France," Mycroft said, his voice sounding heavy with sleep. "You sound like you're freezing, Sherlock. Get somewhere warm and give me about half an hour."

Stranger: "I just got ins-side. Doesn't h-help much r-right away..." Sherlock muttered, going to his room and wrapping up in the blanket.

You: "All right, well just try to stay warm," Mycroft replied then hung up the phone. He called the airport, setting up a flight for Sherlock from Poland to France. Finally, after everything was set and paid for, he called Sherlock back.

Stranger: Sherlock hung up the phone after gaining the information he needed. He was still huddled under the blanket and decided to call John. "H-hey," he stuttered, smiling a little.

You: "Dean, nice to hear from you," John said enthusiastically, settling himself in his armchair. "Though why are you stuttering?"

Stranger: "C-cold," Sherlock laughed, burying himself deeper into the bed. "How a-are you?"

You: "I'm doing fine," John replied as worry spiked. The doctor in him came out and he asked, "Why are you cold? Are you somewhere you can warm up?"

Stranger: "In bed, wa-was just outside, is all. D-did you know it's v-very cold when sn-snowing?" he joked, chuckling lightly.

You: "I did, yes," John laughed back, some of his worry fading away. "If you can, you should make yourself something warm. Though, if you were here, I could help warm you up."

Stranger: "Oh?" Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow. "D-do tell."

You: John laughed again, a darker huskier sound. "Well, first I'd climb into bed with you and pull you up against my chest. Then I'd rub my hands up and down your arms and chest. You'd get warm pretty quickly."

Stranger: "Emmm," Sherlock hummed, imagining the doctor's hands on his chest. "Please, g-go on."

You: "Then, if you were still cold, I'd have to slip my hands underneath your shirt, letting the warmth from them bleed onto your skin," John continued, his voice dropping to nearly a whisper. "I would massage over your chest, making sure to touch every inch of skin to warm you up."

Stranger: "Oh my..." Sherlock mumbled, his eyes closing as pleasure from just the thought coursed through him. "Please... Please... c-continue...."

You: "What would you want me to do next, Dean?" John asked, shifting in his chair as his jeans started to grow a bit tight. "Where else are you cold?"

Stranger: "Well," Sherlock muttered, his voice a husky whisper. "First, we would have to discard our clothes, seeing they are wet and keeping us cold. Once those are gone, we would have to cuddle close, seeing I'll be cold everywhere, John. Everywhere."

You: "In that case, I could have to lay across you, sharing body heat with you," John chuckled. "I'd let my hands rub down your chest and your legs, warming you up. And your lips of course. I'd have to kiss those so they didn't turn blue with cold."

Stranger: "Emmm, yes," Sherlock moaned quietly. "And you know, I guess I would have to kiss you back, make sure you don't get too cold either. Then I guess I have to make sure your member doesn't get cold. What would you want me to do to keep that warm?" Sherlock asked, his pants getting too tight for comfort.

You: "You'd have to wrap your fingers around me and stroke," John replied, voice strained as he imagined just that. "I'd press into you, moving my lips down to your neck so that you didn't get too cold there."

Stranger: "And the rest of you down there?" Sherlock asked, fighting the urge to unzip himself to ease the tension on his straining member. "What would you want so you don't get cold down there? I can't let that happen."

You: "Oh, you'd have to use your other hand, wouldn't you?" John replied, his jeans too tight now but he wasn't sure if he could let himself do anything just yet. "Cup me and massage me with your hand. Where else would you be cold, Dean?"

Stranger: "I'd still be cold down there, especially in the back," Sherlock answered, one hand trailing down to mess with the bulge in his own pants. He bit back a moan as one finger brushed it. "And it'd need your warm mouth back on mine, your warm tongue slipping out to warm me up."

You: John groaned, knowing exactly how Dean's mouth tasted. He gave up and let his hand move down to stroke over his erection, groaning again at the feel. "Yes, I'd have to dip my tongue into your mouth, pressing against your tongue and kissing you deeply," John said hoarsely. "And I'd guide your hips into moving against mine because movement helps warm you up."

Stranger: Sherlock couldn't handle the pressure much longer as he unzipped his pants and popped the button open, his hand diving inside. He moaned loudly as his fingers wrapped around himself. "I-I guess I'd have to l-let you go and grind a-against you th-then, if it's good to-to move..."

You: John heard the rasping distantly, his mind immediately clicking as to what it was. "Are you touching yourself, Dean?" John said, stroking over himself harder. "Are you imagining it's me?"

Stranger: "I am," Sherlock grunted, another moan being pulled from his lips. "God... John, God... I-I... I... God... John..." he couldn't form a complete sentence anymore as he pictured John's hand around his erection, moving perfectly, their mouths pressed together in a crushing kiss.

You: "You sound gorgeous," John murmured, freeing his own erection and stroking lightly. "What would you want me to do next? I think I'd suck at your neck, trailing my lips down your chest."

Stranger: "Yes," Sherlock muttered, his eyes closing. "I-I'd want you to fuck me, John," he moaned lightly, his hand moving faster. "I would want to feel you in me; large and filling and warm, moving quickly... God..."

You: "I'd like that," John breathed, his hand squeezing harder around his erection and making him groan. His hips had started to move, pumping slowly up into his fist. "I'd like you underneath me while I thrust deep inside you, making you scream for me."

Stranger: Sherlock moaned loudly again, his hips thrusting up hard. "I-I love you, John," Sherlock muttered, his orgasm pooling in his stomach.

You: "I know you do, Dean," John said, stroking faster. He could feel his orgasm looming and wanted Dean to tumble over with him. "Will you come for me? Let me hear you moan as you explode?"

Stranger: "Y-yes..." Sherlock muttered. "If...if you can say it back? Please? I need to hear it..." he begged, his climax getting closer.

You: John thought about it as much as he could while driving himself crazy. He believed he could love Dean, given time to discover more about him. "I... I love you," John gasped, feeling his body tighten and his orgasm burst out of him. "Ohhh, Dean, please come for me."

Stranger: "John!" Sherlock moaned, almost a scream over the phone. His muscles tightened as his orgasm exploded out of him, frozen with his hand around himself, and his eyes shut tightly. The picture of John's hand on him clear in his fuzzy mind.

You: John just panted heavily for a few minutes, listening to Dean do the same through the phone. When he could think again, John reached for the box of tissues on the table next to him and cleaned himself up. "You all right?" he asked softly, his body warm with the afterglow. "You warm now, Dean?"

Stranger: "On fire," Sherlock growled back, sitting up. He looked at the wasted sheets and t-shirt, along with his pants. "Damn it," he growled. "Guess I'm not sleeping like this tonight."

You: "Are you in a hotel?" John asked curiously. "Surely they can change the sheets for you?" He got himself back in order, tucking himself away and zipping up his jeans. "Though I really do wish I could be there with you."

Stranger: "I wish that too, but no. Tonight's my last night, so I'll just crash on the couch. They can work on it after I leave," he chuckled. "Now, can you get a flight out here so I can do that to you?"

You: "I can't get away just now," John replied, real regret in his voice. "But I will definitely be here when you're done with your mission. You'll just have to come find me."

Stranger: "Come find you, huh?" Sherlock asked, a smile pulling at his lips. "Awww, you mean you won't be waiting for me at the gate with flowers only to run up to me and jump into my arms?" He joked, the image all too clear in his mind.

You: "I may be waiting, but you don't seem like the flower kind of person," John laughed, relaxing into the chair feeling much happier in general. Just talking to Dean could do that to him, much less the other activities they'd engaged in.

Stranger: "But you'd run and jump into my arms?" Sherlock laughed, the thought making him smile wider.

You: "I'd hug you," John replied, shaking his head. "I don't think you could hold my weight. But yes, I'd wrap my arms around you and hold you tight."

Stranger: "I could, you know I can because I lifted you up, remember?" Sherlock chuckled.

You: John laughed, his face flushing with embarrassment and remembered desire. "Yes, I'd almost forgotten that part," he finally said. "How about we leave the lifting of John Watson part to the flat?"

Stranger: "So no jumping into my arms?" Sherlock asked, making his voice sound disappointed before allowing a chuckle to escape his lips.

You: "Not in public," John replied, laughing again. "I'm not an overly demonstrative person in public. But in private... that's a different story, Dean."

Stranger: "Emmmmm, so when we got home...?" He trailed off, smiling.

You: John felt an odd thrill go through him at the word home. It wasn't bad but he wasn't sure he quite liked it either. He covered it with another laugh. "Then, if you were up for it, try to keep me off of you," John replied, letting his voice caress the words. "Once was not enough, Dean."

Stranger: Sherlock's crotch gave an interested twitch at that and he couldn't stop the moan that escapes his lips. He slapped his free hand over his mouth as he thought about John all over him, kissing him and fucking him hard into the wall.

You: "You sound like you'd enjoy it," John said, his voice quiet over the phone. He could imagine the things he'd like to do, all the places they could push each other up against and just feel. It was something he'd been missing desperately.

Stranger: "So much," Sherlock growled, his voice husky. "God... If I buy you a ticket... Then can you come here?"

You: "I don't know," John replied, feeling as if he was skirting the edge of a deep abyss. "What about your work?"

Stranger: "Screw work," Sherlock hissed. "I need you and I need to be in you, now."

You: John started in the chair, the vehemence in Dean's words startling him a bit. This almost sounded like obsession. "Well, you know what they say," John said lightly, struggling to keep calm. Though he didn't know if he was fighting fear or want. "Absence makes the heart grow fonder. And anticipation heightens everything."

Stranger: Sherlock could hear the slight fear in John's voice and he stopped, his heart dropping. "I-I'm sorry," he muttered, closing his eyes and blinking away the arousal that had bubbled up in him for the second time this phone call. "I scared you... I'm sorry..."

You: "Not scared, necessarily," John argued. "Worry. You sound almost obsessed, considering that we really didn't spend all that much time together. And I have a hard time believing in love at first sight."

Stranger: "Not obsessed, aroused... And what about your friend? Didn't you love him from day one?" Sherlock asked, his voice careful.

You: John thought about that for several minutes, replaying that first hectic case in his mind. "Day one, no," he finally said. "I liked him and was attracted to him. Love came a bit later, after we'd been living together for a while."

Stranger: "But you liked him," Sherlock stated. He chuckled and shook his head. "Nevermind. My point is a lost cause."

You: "What point is that?" John asked curiously, trying to figure out where this was going.

Stranger: "Nothing," Sherlock said, forcing his voice to sound cheerful. "Nothing, John, don't worry about it."

You: John tilted his head as he considered their conversation. He felt like there were levels and levels he wasn't getting but eventually gave up. "So, how is your mission going in Poland?" he asked, changing the subject.

Stranger: "I've finished here and going to France tomorrow at nine in the morning. So I have to get up early," Sherlock muttered.

You: "Does this mean you're almost done?" John asked, remembering vaguely that Dean had said France was the last place he had to go. "Or is Mycroft going to have you running around more of the continent?"

Stranger: "If things go well, I should be done in about three days, a week tops," Sherlock smiled, thinking of going back to John. "Why? Do you need me as bad as I need you?"

You: "I miss you," John said simply, a small smile crossing his face. "I want to see you again and get to know you. I really do think we could work well together."

Stranger: "I miss you too," Sherlock answered. "I think we work well together too. It was nice having someone to help me catch Moran. Thank you for the help."

You: "You're welcome," John replied. "It was good to take down the last of the men who destroyed my friend's reputation. I just wish... he hadn't jumped."

Stranger: "You really miss him don't you?" Sherlock asked slowly, hearing the hesitation in John's voice.

You: "Yes, I do," John replied sadly. "I think I told you before, but he saved me. Gave me a life worth living again. If I could just have a short time with him... there are so many things I'd want to say."

Stranger: "If you don't mind me asking; like what?" Sherlock asked slowly.

You: John sighed as he felt his heart clench in his chest. So many words and all of them meaningless now. He ran a hand through his hair, trying to put them in a coherent order, rather than the jumble they are now. "That I loved him. That he meant the world to me and I was grateful beyond words to know him," John finally said. "That Sherlock was one of the most brilliant men I'd ever met and, no matter his arguments to the contrary, he did have a heart. I could see it."

Stranger: "That was... Sweet," Sherlock said slowly. "Did you ever tell him any of that when he was alive..?"

You: "No, I didn't," John said regretfully, shaking his head though Dean couldn't see it. "I don't even know if he knew, but knowing Sherlock, he did. I swear that man was almost telepathic."

Stranger: Sherlock chuckled softly, his eyes closing so he could just focus on John's voice.

You: "I hope he knew," John continued softly, tears starting to blur his eyes. "He knew just about everything else about me. I think it would kill me if he died not knowing how much he meant to me. How much I owed to him."

Stranger: Sherlock fell silent at once, hearing the pain in John's voice. "John... Are you... Crying?" Sherlock asked slowly, hearing the doctor sniffle over the phone.

You: John wiped a hand over his eyes, trying to stop the tears that were now falling down his cheeks. "Sorry," he managed to say, his voice breaking. "I can talk to you another time, if you like. It's just that orgasming tends to pull up emotions that I've been burying."

Stranger: "No, John, don't hang up. I want to help, if I can," Sherlock said, listening to John crying over the phone. "Please.."

You: "I don't know how you can help," John said quietly, his breathing heavy. "Maybe if you just talk, I can get the crying under control."

Stranger: "Alright," Sherlock said gently, nodding. "John, I wish you were here with me if for nothing else but to see this place with me. The snow here is beautiful, the sunsets are amazing and, when I'm not working, the town is a work of art. You would love it here, I know that. The people, the buildings; everything is amazing. One day, I want to bring you here, not for work or anything, but just a relaxing vacation. Together."

You: Listening, a tremulous smile grew on John's face. He'd seen pictures of Poland and other places while training in the military. Part of getting to know the world, the places he might have been deployed to. Hearing the description in Dean's voice, John can picture it easily. "Keep talking?" he asked, the tears slowing.

Stranger: "If we could do that, I'd take you for long always around the city, just sight-seeing and relaxing and having fun. I'd hold your hand so you wouldn't get too cold, and when you do, we could stop at a cafe. There are so many around here and they are all so beautiful. We could sit by a window, watching the snow fall, and I could sit next to you, my arm around your shoulders," Sherlock said, keeping his voice gentle. "I would make sure you were happy. Always happy. Take you to a nice dinner that evening, just relaxing and being ourselves."

You: "I'd like that," John said, the tears finally stopping. He rubbed a hand over his eyes again, clearing away the moisture. "Thank you. Though, we'd have to make sure that Mycroft couldn't reach either of us. I wouldn't put it past the British Government to find some sort of work to interrupt everything."

Stranger: "Our phones magically have an 'off' button for situations just like that," Sherlock said before a laugh escaped him.

You: John laughed, the last of the sadness dissipating. "That is very true," he said, settling back comfortably in the chair again. "What time do you need to sleep? I don't want you missing your flight."

Stranger: "Doesn't matter. I can sleep on the plane. Helps it go by faster so I don't have to think how high up I am," he muttered, his stomach flipping. "What time do you need to sleep? I know the time is different where you are."

You: "No particular time for me," John said lightly, staring at the setting sun out his window. "I don't have anything I need to do tomorrow except more editing. I'm finally almost done."

Stranger: "Oh? That's great!" Sherlock chuckled. He felt the urge to kiss John grow as he pictured the doctor and pushed it down. "How much more do you have to go?"

You: "About sixty pages or so," John said, grimacing at the computer sitting oh-so-innocently on the desk. "Then, hopefully, we can get the cover for it and the book published."

Stranger: "Well, I'll be the first to buy it," Sherlock smirked. "If you promise to sign it?"

You: "Yes, I'll sign it for you," John laughed, feeling the smile stretch his face. "Good to know I'll have one sale, at least. What do you normally read?"

Stranger: "Mysteries, murders, action; things like that. I also read some textbooks, catch up with my knowledge, you know? Otherwise, not much. What about you?" Sherlock asked with a smile.

You: "Mysteries, mostly," John said. "And a few action type novels. I like it for the escape, the simple thrill without any actual danger. I used to get that often enough in real life."

Stranger: "I get that enough now," Sherlock laughed. "Kinda makes me miss the relaxing days, ya know?"

You: "Yes, so you've told me," John replied, a serious note in his voice. "How many times has someone tried to kill you?"

Stranger: Sherlock sighed, trying to remember. "Honestly? I've lost count," Sherlock muttered. "But about a third of the time it was myself..."

You: "Why?" John asked bluntly. This was new and not something he'd have considered Dean would do. "Were you suicidal in the past? Or just throwing yourself in harm's way?"

Stranger: "Both," Sherlock admitted, his voice dropping. He fell quiet and thought maybe John didn't hear him when he didn't answer.  
You: "I'm sorry," John finally said softly, struck by the similarities to Sherlock again. But he was learning to let it go, not letting it color his impressions of Dean.

Stranger: "I OD'd a few times, a couple times I was found by strangers, a few I don't even know who found me, but it was all internal," Sherlock admitted.  
You: "I'm glad they found you," John said feelingly. "Though I'm guessing that was a while ago if you're working for Mycroft now. What drove you to drugs?"

Stranger: "It was teen year, early twenties as well," Sherlock muttered truthfully. "Just... Life..."

You: "I'm sorry," John repeated, not knowing what more to say. That was the part he'd hated most about being a doctor other than losing patients. Dealing with the addicts who didn't want to get clean.

Stranger: "If it helps... I'm mostly clean now," Sherlock said slowly, trying to lighten the mood.

You: "Mostly?" John asked, a thread of joking sarcasm to his voice. "What, a caffeine addict now? I think I'm one of those."

Stranger: Sherlock laughed loudly, unable to stop it as the noise filled the hotel room. "Yes," he chuckled. "Definitely!"

You: John laughed with him, letting the worry that had grown fade away. "So what are your plans after you're done with Mycroft's mission?" he asked casually. "Other than possibly meeting me?"

Stranger: "I- um-" Sherlock paused, knowing he couldn't tell John. "I can't tell you..."

You: "Going back to your secret double life?" John teased, laughing a bit over the phone.

Stranger: "Sort of," Sherlock chuckled.

You: "And nothing you can share with me?" John asked, getting up to make himself a cup of tea. He held the phone between his ear and shoulder, balancing it carefully as he waited for the water to boil.

Stranger: "Sorry, love," Sherlock chuckled, letting his voice caress the last word slowly.

You: John clearly heard the tone, a shiver going up his spine as Dean spoke. He had to admit, he liked listening to the other man speak. It was deep and warm, with just a hint of a threat underneath. "Oh well," John said, mock sadly. "I guess I'll just have to find some other way to get it out of you."

Stranger: "Oh? How so, love?" Sherlock smirked. "Gonna get me hard again?"

You: "That is for me to know and you to find out," John teased, pouring water over the tea bag in his cup. He carried it carefully back to the living room, settling in his armchair again. "You can just squirm in anticipation, I suppose."

Stranger: Sherlock grunted and growled at John. "Can't you tell me baby?"

You: "Now where's the fun in that?" John asked, enjoying the game. "I have to make you work for the answers, don't I?"

Stranger: "And how do I do that?" Sherlock asked, voice heavy

You: "Come back here, for a start," John said, his voice going gravelly. "After that, I think I can leave it up to your imagination, yes?"

Stranger: "You know I can't yet," Sherlock frowned. "Can you come here?"

You: "Not if I want to get my novel published in anything approaching a reasonable time frame," John said regretfully. "I'm starting to get close to the deadline they gave me for the editing."

Stranger: "Can't you edit it on the plane then email it to them?" Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow before pouting. "Please..."

You: John sighed and shook his head. "I can't, Dean, I'm sorry," he said apologetically. "I need it fairly quiet and I would be far too distracted on a plane. How about a compromise? When I finish editing I can try to meet you."

Stranger: "Deal," Sherlock chuckled. "I'll pay for you and everything. I have the money."

You: "You don't have to do that," John argued, sipping his tea. "I have some money saved back. I can use it to pay for a flight."

Stranger: "I don't want you to have to waste your money, though. Not on me," Sherlock replied, shaking his head. "It's expensive, at least let me pay half."

You: "It's not a waste," John argued, though a smile crossed his face. "And half is fine. Now this gives me an incentive to edit quicker, huh?"

Stranger: "God, I hope so. Four more months without you? No thank you," Sherlock said, chewing his bottom lip. "How much more do you have to go?"

You: "About sixty pages or so," John replied thoughtfully. "I've been averaging about ten to fifteen a day but I think I might try to push for more."

Stranger: "I hope so," Sherlock smiled. "I miss you."

You: "I miss you too," John sighed. He looked at his laptop again, the lure of a trip to see Dean drawing him to edit further. "Maybe I should work on my novel some more. That'll let me come see you faster."

Stranger: "Please do, if I need to, I'll leave right now," Sherlock said quickly, chuckling. "Please!"

You: "Then I shall say goodbye," John said, a touch of regret in his voice. "Sleep well, Dean, and I hope you have a safe trip."

Stranger: "Thanks, John. Goodnight," he paused for a minute before smiling to himself. "Love you."

You: "Goodnight," John said, a flutter in his belly every time Dean said he loved him. He hung up the phone then, levering himself up out of the chair and bringing his cup to the desk. Time to edit and hopefully be finished in the next few days.

Stranger: Sherlock chuckled, hanging up the phone as well. He stood and went into the kitchen to make himself a cup of tea. Once he did, he went into his room to change and came back out to the living room, the one unsoiled blanket draped over his shoulder. He dropped onto the couch and curled up with his mug, flickering on the TV and only giving it his half attention, his mind on John.

You: John worked late into the night, keeping Dean out of his thoughts by the sheer weight of the words in front of him. He managed to make it through about twenty pages before the sun rose, the editors at the publisher's not having been as free with their corrections or suggestions in this section.

\--------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: Sherlock stood in the middle of the gate, waiting for his plane to be called. While waiting, he pulled out his phone to text Mycroft.  
Getting on flight now. Anything I should know? -SH

You: There seems to be a slight problem with Mary Franks. She has missed her last two check-ins. Hurry and find out what's happened, please, Sherlock. - MH

Stranger: Right. I'll get on that as soon as I land. Text you then. -SH

You: Thank you. Safe flight, little brother. - MH

Stranger: Will do. -SH  
Sherlock slipped his phone back in his pocket as his plane was called. He stood and pulled his back over his shoulder, stepping up to the line to board.

You: The flight attendants settled everyone in their seats, going through the usual safety drills. When that was finished, the plane was sealed and the pilots taxied to the runway. Takeoff was smooth and the flight was fairly quick from Poland to Paris, France.

Stranger: Sherlock woke up as the plane landed, glancing out the window and yawning. He collected his things into his bag and stood when the place taxied into the gate. He got off the plane after a tedious wait and made his way to the front to get a taxi.

You: There were several cabs sitting near the entrance, each driver knowing that they could get decent fares from the airport. One started out of a slight doze when someone slid in and slammed the door closed. "Where to, monsieur?" the driver asked.

Stranger: "Any hotel will do," Sherlock grunted, watching out the window. "Doesn't matter which. Fairly nice, though, please."

You: "Sure thing," the driver replied, easing out into traffic. He knew of several decent hotels near the airport and decided to drive to the one furthest away. His fare sounded English, so he probably didn't know Paris all that well.

Stranger: Sherlock noticed the driver taking him to the farthest - and probably the most expensive - hotel in the area; the way his shoulders were tense, his eyes - which Sherlock could see in the mirror - darting around, falling on certain street names and lingering on them. Whenever they passed a hotel the driver seemed to tense just a little more, making Sherlock figure those would have done just as well as well. He didn't speak up, knowing he had enough money to pay either way. Besides, it was Mycroft's money on this trip, since he snagged his debit card before leaving and figured out his pin. His birthday, really. Too easy.

You: The driver pulled up outside an ornate hotel, pleased and relieved that his passenger hadn't said anything during the drive. He read the meter, giving his passenger the price. "This look like a good hotel for you, monsieur?" he asked.

Stranger: "Fine, but the other ten we passed would have been fine," Sherlock smirked at the blush that crossed the driver's face. "Next time, don't waste my time, and maybe I'll tip you." Sherlock handed the driver the exact change before collecting his bag and sliding from the back seat, snickering as the driver watched after him, dumbfounded.

You: Shaking his head, the cabby pulled away. He had to wonder, though, exactly how much he might have been tipped had he stopped earlier. Shrugging, he headed back to the airport. There were probably other fares to be had.

Stranger: Sherlock dropped off his bag in the room after he checked in and pulled out his phone, pulling the address from the messages Mycroft had emailed to him. He jotted it down on a sheet of paper and shoved it in his pocket, along with the phone, before he turned on his heels and started out to flag down another taxi.

You: The ride was quick to the agent's flat, the taxi driver whistling tunelessly to the radio. Sherlock rolled his eyes but kept his silence. It wasn't quite worth it to try to stop the man. The car pulled up outside a brick, four-story building.

Stranger: Sherlock approached the door of Mary's flat, his eyes scanning the door, which was broken off it's hinges. He pushed it open and stepped slowly into the flat, his eyes taking in everything. He pulled out his phone to text Mycroft.  
Something's wrong. Door broken. Flat destroyed. Empty. -SH

You: Which means she was taken. Any clues as to who did it? Or when? - MH

Stranger: Not yet. Give me a few. -SH  
Sherlock pocketed his phone and moved around the flat slowly. There was a stench in the flat, something of gunpowder and sweat. It was fresh, too. Someone was in the flat with him. Sherlock let his eyes roam the room quickly, searching for a sign of movement. He wasn't armed, standing out in the open and unprotected.

You: The other person Sherlock smelled was hiding in the bedroom, having ducked into the closet while searching for the files his boss had sent him to get. Someone else showing up was the last thing the lackey had expected and he wasn't quite sure what to do next.

Stranger: Sherlock moved slowly, his eyes and mind working quickly, his ear searching for any sound he could find. He quieted his breathing and kept his footsteps light as he moved. Moving into the bedroom, Sherlock heard a small gasp coming from the closet. He sat on the bed and waited, seeing the doors were solid and the man couldn't see out of them unless he opened the door. Even then, he would have to stick his head out at least, at the angle the bed was from the closet doors.

You: The lackey froze, indecision keeping him rooted in place. The other man was a bit skinny but tall. He was fairly certain he could deal with the other man but that wasn't his job here. And his boss had very little patience for people who overstepped their bounds.

Stranger: Sherlock waited for a while, his eyes glued to the closet. He knew the man had to come out sooner or later.

You: The lackey sighed silently, realizing that the other man wasn't going to move. Well, the only thing for it now was to deal with him. Taking a deep breath, he rushed out of the closet and grappled with the other man, trying to knock him unconscious.

Stranger: Sherlock stood at once as the door to the closet flew open and the other man came for him. "What... Are you... doing here?" Sherlock growled, the other man stronger then he looked.

You: "My business... not... yours," the lackey replied, panting heavily. He got his arms wrapped around the other man's waist and brought them both down to the ground. While the other man was stunned for a moment, he managed to slither up and press his forearm to his throat.

Stranger: Sherlock coughed loudly and tried to pull the man's arm away from crushing his throat. "Who... you workin'... for?" he forced, breathing becoming harder.

You: The lackey just shook his head, fighting to keep his arm in place. He could tell the other man was getting weaker and giving away information now was just stupid.

Stranger: "M-Megan?" Sherlock asked slowly, his vision blurring in and out. He could tell the other man was struggling as well, but was still holding strong. "Are you... working for... M-Megan?"

You: "I don't know a Megan," the lackey growled, his eyes narrowing. "My boss would rather not be known." In the dominant position, the lackey was able to catch his breath, breathing far easier and speaking smoothly.

Stranger: "True... Megan wouldn't... take someone... so... weak," Sherlock muttered, a smirk weakly crossing his face as he stared up at the man.

You: "I am not weak," the lackey argued, glaring down at the man. "Who's the one choking with an arm across his throat?"

Stranger: "You," Sherlock choked back before he wrapped his legs around the other man's waist and quickly flipped them. He placed his forearm down on the other man's throat and smirked down at him. "What were you saying?"

You: The lackey choked, scrabbling frantically at the other man's arm over his throat. Eyes widening in fear, he felt his limbs weaken as darkness overtook his sight.

Stranger: Sherlock loosened his grip, not wanting the man to pass out just yet. "Tell me who you're working for," he growled, getting dangerously close to the man's face.

You: "I tell you, you kill me," the lackey spat back, glaring up at the other man. "What's in it for me?"

Stranger: Sherlock sighed heavily. "You tell me, I let you go," Sherlock growled, almost spitting in his face. His face was almost to the point of touching the other man's and his eyes were turning a dangerous dark blue-green.

You: The lackey studied him for a few long moments then finally nodded. "Desmond," he said. "Desmond St. Claire. He's the leader of a drug ring here in Paris. One of them at least."

Stranger: "And what does he want that's in this flat? Do you know where the woman who lived here went? A Ms. Mary Franks?" Sherlock asked, backing away slightly.

You: The lackey shook his head, his face a study of confusion. "I don't know a Mary Franks," he said. "But Desmond believed that Mary Kildare, the woman who lived here, was passing information to a rival cartel. He wanted her brought in for questioning."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and thought for a minute. He reached down to the crotch of this man, grabbing him roughly and feeling the metal of a gun. He snarled and dove his hand down the man's pants grabbing the gun and roughly pulling it out, the other man jumping and heavily blushing a deep red. "Would you show me where they took her?"

You: "If I do that, Desmond will kill me," the lackey protested. "I'm only answering questions to save my life here."

Stranger: "Do you even want to work for Desmond?" Sherlock asked slowly, his eyes scanning the younger's, seeing the regret in his words.

You: "No, but I have no choice," he replied bitterly. "I needed a way to survive and the cartel took me in. Once in, there's no leaving without a toe tag."

Stranger: Sherlock saw the honesty behind the man's words and nodded. "What if I can help you out?" he asked, his voice quiet. "No toe tag; a new life, basically. If I can help you?"

You: "Why?" he asked suspiciously, though a treacherous thread of hope took root in his chest. "What am I to you? And what's the catch?"

Stranger: "Because you can help me," Sherlock said, getting up off the man but keeping the gun in his hand, ready. "The only catch is that you have to trust me, and give me a reason to trust you. You have to help me take Desmond and do what I say, no matter what. If we do this right, we can destroy Desmond and I can get you a new life, a new beginning."

You: "What's your name?" the lackey asked suddenly, rubbing at his throat. He was stalling for time while he thought about the man's proposition, wondering if he could trust him. If not, it would be his life either way.

Stranger: "Sherlock," Sherlock said, holding out the hand that didn't hold the gun. "Sherlock Holmes."

You: "Rene Toulouse," Rene replied, taking the hand and shaking it. "And you have a deal, Mr. Holmes, provided you can keep me alive."

Stranger: "I can," Sherlock promised, holding the younger's hand for a second longer to make sure the man knew he was serious. "I promise you'll make it out alive, as long as you follow what I say, word for word. Until we can move on, you can stay with me. I'll still need you to work with Desmond for the time, though. But I want to work with you on what you need to do. Let's grab that folder and talk about our next move, shall we?"

You: "Sure," Rene nodded and heaved himself to his feet. "Though what folder are you talking about?"

Stranger: "I'm looking for a folder. Desmond was correct in suspecting that Mary was passing along information, but I was the one to collect it. I need to find it for my boss. What were you here to find?" Sherlock asked, standing.

You: "Any information about the cartel Mary was working for," Rene admitted, scratching his head. "I wasn't aware she'd kept a folder. Though, I can't fault Desmond for his instincts. I think I saw a file cabinet back in the living room."

Stranger: "Alright, what we'll do is find the folder I'm looking for and we'll make up a default folder for you to turn into Desmond. Proof that she wasn't passing on information," Sherlock said, starting to the living room. "We don't want him thinking that she was, or he'll kill her."

You: "That makes sense," Rene replied, following after. "I broke into the cabinet, but there were cookbooks inside it. It didn't seem useful or important."

Stranger: "Did you open a cookbook?" Sherlock asked, picking one up from the cabinet and opening it, smiling.

You: "No," Rene replied slowly, moving up next to Sherlock and staring down curiously at the book. "Should I have?"

Stranger: "You tell me," Sherlock smiled, shoving the book into the younger's hands.

You: Rene shot a glare at Sherlock but flipped through the book. His mouth dropped open as he reached the middle and a manilla envelope was tucked between the pages. "This what you were looking for?" he asked dryly, holding it up.

Stranger: Sherlock took the folder with a smile. "Yep," he smirked. "See, you have to check everything, even the innocent cookbooks."

You: "I'll keep that in mind next time," Rene laughed. He looked around the flat, studying the disarray. "I think that's it then. Unless there's more you need here?"

Stranger: "No, this is it," Sherlock said, stuffing the folder under his arm and the gun in his pocket. "If you want to head to my hotel with me, we should go. I need to contact my broth- I mean, boss to tell him what's going on with Mary."

You: "All right," Rene said agreeably, though his head tilted at the broken word Sherlock uttered. He wondered if the other man was really going to say "brother" before interrupting himself.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded towards the door and started towards it. He made it out to the main road and flagged down a taxi, motioning Rene in.

You: "So what is your plan?" Rene asked, settling down on the seat. "I don't want to go back to Desmond without knowing what's going on. That would be a quick way of getting me killed."

Stranger: "Wait," Sherlock muttered, watching out the window. "Not here. Wait till we're back at the hotel room. Trust me."

You: Rene remained quiet for the rest of the ride, not really wanting to engage in small talk with the other man. He watched as the streets flowed by until they finally stopped outside the hotel Sherlock had checked into earlier. "This it?" he asked.

Stranger: "Yes," Sherlock said simply, climbing out of the cab and not waiting for the other man. He'll catch up.

You: Rene got out and hurried after Sherlock, not wanting to be left behind now that he'd entrusted his life to the man. They walked inside the hotel, Rene following as Sherlock headed straight for the elevators.

Stranger: Sherlock pressed the eighth floor button and watched as Rene rushed into the elevator just as the doors were closing. "Decided to come," he joked.

You: "Where do you think I can go?" Rene asked rhetorically, rolling his eyes though a small smile crossed his face. "Besides, if I left, you could always turn around and sell me out to Desmond."

Stranger: "True, do you think I'd do that, though?" Sherlock asked, the smile pulling at his lips as well.

You: "Depends," Rene replied, shrugging. "If it was your life or mine, sure I could see that. Though, I don't think you're the type of man to cause harm to others for no reason."

Stranger: "Good," Sherlock smirked before he ruffled the younger man's black hair as the elevator doors opened. "Come on."

You: Rene followed, feeling very much like the younger brother in this situation. He watched as Sherlock used a keycard to open up a room and walked inside after him. "So, plan?" Rene asked, settling himself on a chair in the corner of the room.

Stranger: Sherlock slumped onto the couch and looked at Rene. "We need to think of one," Sherlock said. "We have new pieces on the board, along with a new twist."

You: "Oh?" Rene continued, intense interest on his face. "I'm guessing that one of your goals is to get Mary back, right?"

Stranger: "Has to be," Sherlock muttered. He fingered his phone out of his pocket and dialed Mycroft's number while saying, "My boss can help us with this little bit."

You: "What is it, Sherlock?" Mycroft asked, not bothering to greet him. "I'm very busy right now. Have you found Mary?"

Stranger: "Nice to hear from you too," Sherlock snarled, turning on the speakerphone. "Now, if you can focus for a few moments. Mary isn't in her flat. I ran into a worker from the drug circle she was in. A man named Desmond suspected of her passing on information to us and took her in."

You: "That is not good news," Mycroft replied soberly. "And this... worker? Did you take care of him?"

Stranger: "He's sitting right here," Sherlock said, eyeing the younger.

You: Mycroft sighed, the sound clearly audible over the speaker. "Sherlock, what were you thinking?" he asked, the annoyance clear in his voice. "You can't just take in strangers and expect them to keep your secrets."

Stranger: "You think I don't know this," Sherlock snapped. "I'm trying to do something good here, Mycroft. He can help us; we can bring down this circle from the inside out."

You: "How do you know you can trust him?" Mycroft replied. "He works for the leader we are trying to bring down."

Stranger: "I understand this, but-"

You: "Look, I'm sitting right here," Rene interrupted. "Why don't you just ask me?"

Stranger: The other line was quiet for a moment before Mycroft growled at Sherlock, "You have me on speaker? You're letting him listen into our conversation? What's wrong with you, Sherlock?"

You: Rene struggled to keep the laughter quiet when he saw the grin cross Sherlock's face. Older brother? he mouthed at the other man.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and rolled his eyes. How'd you know? he mouthed back, snickering.

You: You sound like my brother and I Rene replied, smiling widely. "So, to lay your worries to rest, is there anything you want to ask me?" Rene asked, looking at the phone.

Stranger: Mycroft sighed heavily again, this was really getting too much for him. "Sherlock, do you trust him?" he asked slowly, grinding his teeth.

You: "I trust him," Sherlock replied simply, letting a small laugh out at Rene's expression. "He doesn't want to be working for Desmond. In exchange for getting him out of the cartel, Rene is going to help me get Mary out."

Stranger: "Fine, but whatever happens to John because of this is on you," Mycroft snapped. "If that little agent of yours breaks something, you fix it. If John gets killed because of your stupid mistake, it's on you, not me. I'm not going to clean up that mess. Understand?"

You: A cold chill ran down Sherlock's spine at the thought of anything happening to John. "How can anything happen to him?" he asked, voice flat and cold. "Rene doesn't know who he is and I would never put him in harm's way."

Stranger: "And that's why you took him on those dates while Moran was still alive and after you, Sherlock. Even when you knew what you were risking," Mycroft said, his voice chill and quiet.

You: "I looked nothing like myself," Sherlock growled back, anger twisting his features into a mask. "As far as Moran was concerned, I was still dead. There is absolutely no connection to Moran or Moriarty here. Unless you're planning on making one, brother dear."

Stranger: Mycroft bit back the retort he wanted to snap back. "Just understand, we don't know who's connected in this world. I'm not responsible for your mistakes."

StranYou: "Yes, I understand," Sherlock snapped, ignoring the questioning look Rene sent him.  
"Now, can we please move past this petty argument?"

Stranger: "Yes, now thank you for the update, Sherlock, but I really must get back to this paperwork if you ever want to return home. Goodbye, little brother," Mycroft spat before he hung up.

You: "So much for his help," Rene said dryly, glancing down at the phone. "Guess we're on our own for this one."

Stranger: Sherlock growled at the phone for a while before throwing the phone towards the wall. "I'm tired of him," Sherlock growled, rolling his eyes. "I never asked to do this!"

You: "Why are you, if it's not against national security or something for you to tell me?" Rene asked. "This seems like a chore for you."

Stranger: "It is a bloody chore, just something to waste time so I don't go back to John yet," Sherlock growled, his anger for Mycroft just growing.

You: "Who's John?" Rene continued, his head tilting to the side. "Why would you working with me put him in danger?"

Stranger: "He's my-" Sherlock paused. What was John to him now? He was Dean's friend but... they were more than that, weren't they? And Sherlock... John though he was dead. So what was John, really? "I don't know what to call it," he finally said. "He's my flatmate, friend and... honestly, the love of my life. Over the past three years, I've been working on taking down the IOU, agents that worked for a man named James Moriarty, I'd be shocked if you never heard of him. He forced me to kill myself, or at least fake it, which I did. Now I can't go back to John till the IOU is one-hundred percent gone, and Mycroft restores my reputation. I'm legally dead right now."

You: "That sounds... complicated," Rene finally said, his voice surprised. "Well, I have no idea who you or John are, so you have nothing to worry about from me. Though, I vaguely remember Desmond going on about a Moriarty a few years ago. Something about him not even providing a defense at his trial and getting off?"

Stranger: "He threatened the families of the jury," Sherlock growled. "No one knew till it was too late. But yes, it is very complicated. I don't know what Mycroft is doing; all I know is that I want back to John. He had a relationship with Dean, the name I use around him, but I want to tell him I'm alive. That I'm still me... how I really feel about him..."

You: "Makes sense," Rene nodded, turning businesslike again. "So if your brother isn't going to help, we should figure out what we're doing. I don't know how long Mary will be able to withstand the... persuasion Desmond uses."

Stranger: "Which is what?" Sherlock asked, pushing his emotions down again.

You: "He likes using knives," Rene sighed, grimacing. "And there are many more options available for torturing a woman. I liked Mary and I don't want that to happen to her."

Stranger: Sherlock raised an eyebrow at that but stayed quiet on the subject. "Would he... do that to you tomorrow if you don't give him the information he wants to hear?"

You: Rene thought about it, running everything he'd seen of Desmond though his mind. The man had the patience of a saint and would often prolong things if it raised the fear in his victims. "I don't think he'd start right away," Rene finally said. "Especially if he wanted to scare her first. Though he may start moving her around to further disorient her."

Stranger: "And what about you?" Sherlock asked, rolling his eyes. "He won't use the knives with you if you tell him he was wrong about Mary, will he?"

You: "No, he wouldn't do anything to me," Rene replied, his eyes widening as he understood what Sherlock was asking. "Are you kidding? If he tortured people who gave him bad news, he wouldn't have much of a crew left."

Stranger: "Good," Sherlock nodded. He fell quiet, thinking through plans.

You: Rene let Sherlock think, his eyes wandering through the hotel room. He saw one bag and assumed that the other man travelled light. He was content to sit in quiet until his stomach rumbled, telling him it was about time for lunch.

Stranger: Sherlock turned his head to Rene. "You hungry?" he asked, standing. "Let's go out somewhere, on the other side of town, though, from where your boss works."

You: "Good idea," Rene said, nodding emphatically. "Desmond likes to give himself airs by eating at some of the trendier restaurants in Paris. We should go somewhere small, near the north side."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and grabbed his wallet. "I don't expect you have much money?" he asked, taking his coat.

You: Rene shook his head, shrugging ruefully. "Desmond keeps his lackeys on short pay," he explained. "I have maybe enough for one meal on me."

Stranger: "Don't worry, it's on me," Sherlock said, shrugging his coat on. "I'm not... short on money."

You: "That's good to know, especially if we don't find Mary quickly," Rene said, standing up. He hadn't taken his coat off, deciding that being prepared to run was the best course even now. "I know a good place we can go. It's quiet and we'll be able to plan there without being overheard."

Stranger: "Sounds good," Sherlock said as they left the flat. Sherlock waved down a taxi as they got downstairs and Rene told the cabbie the address before they were off.

\---------------------------------------------------------

You: The plan Sherlock and Rene made worked flawlessly with one important problem: Mary had been moved long before they were able to get Rene back to Desmond. The poor woman had obviously been tortured that first day, Desmond's anger overcoming his patience. A month later, Rene was trying to find where Mary was being held, if not added as one of the guards, while Sherlock cast around for any clue as to where she was.

Stranger: Sherlock looked up as Rene had entered the hotel room, a sigh leaving his lips. "Find out anything new today?" Sherlock asked, turning back to his computer.

You: "No," Rene replied, yawing. He flopped down on the bed, burying his head in the pillow. "Desmond has had me running around as a sort of envoy to the other cartels. He wants me to spin some fairy tale about working together and dividing up where the drugs are shipped to."

Stranger: "So nothing of use? No new locations for dividing the drugs or new shipments?" Sherlock asked, his eyes never leaving the computer.

You: "No, I honestly think Desmond is setting them all up to be killed," Rene replied, his voice muffled by the pillow. "He doesn't like to share. Though, he's planning on rotating out Mary's guards. I'm impressed she's held out this long. Or she's lying to stay alive."

Stranger: "If she's alive," Sherlock muttered, powering the computer down. "Is it possible he had her already killed?"

You: "No, she's alive," Rene said, turning his head to look at Sherlock. "If he had her killed, he would have done it in a crowd. Show off his power, drive home what happens to traitors. Desmond is showy like that."

Stranger: "Why has he never been arrested then?" Sherlock mused, going over to the couch and falling onto it. There was only one bed in the room, and it was Rene's night, them taking turns for every other night. "I hate people like that."

You: "He owns some of the police," Rene explained, burying his head back in the pillow. "Anytime anyone gets close to him, the others bury the evidence. It's all very efficient."

Stranger: Sherlock sighed. "The police are in on it too? Why am I not shocked."

You: Rene chuckled then turned his head again. "If I'm lucky, I'll get put on the guards around Mary. Though if not, we may have to wait another month. Desmond rotates his people once a month so that we don't get too used to one job. Or have an opportunity to turn on him."

Stranger: "See how that turned out, didn't we?" Sherlock chuckled tiredly. "Didn't really work for him with you."

You: "Yeah, but how could he expect you to walk in while I was going through Mary's flat?" Rene asked rhetorically. "Anyway, I'm exhausted. No more talking for at least four hours, 'kay?" He closed his eyes without waiting for an answer and fell asleep between one breath and the next.

Stranger: Sherlock chuckled and shook his head. Over the past month, Rene and himself had grown closer, Sherlock feeling as though Rene was a younger brother more than a man he was trying to help.

You: While Rene was sleeping and Sherlock thinking, Mycroft was busy working. The newspapers were slowly turning in Sherlock's favor, especially after New Scotland Yard released a statement exonerating Sherlock for the crimes it was said he'd planned. Now that the proof about Richard Brook, James Moriarty, and Sherlock's genius was coming out, more and more people were believing it. Mycroft had had a few angry calls from John about people camping out in front of 221B.

Stranger: "Why in bloody hell are these people even here, Mycroft?" John growled into the phone, peaking through the window at the tents below. "What could they be waiting for?"

You: "Most likely they want the story from you," Mycroft replied, signing his name to a few orders before handing them off to Anthea. "You're the only one who stood on his side, believed him to be innocent. There's a story in that, you know."

Stranger: "Well what am I supposed to do? I'm sure as hell not going to give a damn interview," John growled, turning his back to the window.

You: Mycroft sighed and pulled out a few papers from one file on his desk. "You could ignore them, John," he suggested. "I know you're done with your editing, you can correspond with your publisher by phone and email."

Stranger: "Already did," John sighed, slumping into a chair. "I finished talking with them yesterday." He thought to Dean's promise but it worried him that he barely heard anything from him over the past month.

You: "Then just relax," Mycroft said absently, skimming through a report from one of his field agents. "Your book is going to be published soon, right? Soon, those crowds will be there because they like your book not because of Sherlock."

Stranger: John chuckled dryly. "Have you heard from Dean much lately?" John asked suddenly, unable to hold the question back.

You: "Not really, no," Mycroft said, his attention caught by the rush in John's words. "One of my agents went missing and he's working on finding her. Why do you ask?"

Stranger: "Just... haven't heard much from him and wanted to make sure he was alright," John lied slowly, unsure if he should tell Mycroft the truth.

You: "I'm sure he's fine," Mycroft said, fighting to keep the anger at Sherlock out of his voice. "He checks in once a week and he hasn't missed one yet."

Stranger: "Well, that's good," John nodded, still worried. "Thanks Mycroft. Please, let me know if you hear from him. Or tell him I'm worried..."

You: "What's going on, John?" Mycroft asked suspiciously. "You don't know him all that well. Why the concern?"

Stranger: "Well... I-I mean... I-I don't know just... yeah," John muttered, his face heating. Was it any of Mycroft's business? "W-why do you care? You're only his boss. I-it's none of your b-business!"

You: "This isn't like you," Mycroft explained, cursing Sherlock silently yet again. "And I'm your friend, John. I care because I don't want you getting hurt again."

Stranger: "Dean wouldn't hurt me," John shook his head. "Thanks for caring and all, but Dean won't hurt me. He won't."

You: "Not intentionally," Mycroft agreed. He scrawled his initials on the report and dropped it in the outbox on his desk. Anthea would go through every report to make sure nothing was missed. "Just be careful, all right? And if you need to go anywhere, let me know. I can get you an escort so you don't have to worry about the reporters and gawkers."

Stranger: John thought for a moment, bothering his bottom lip. "Actually, can you give me a ride to the airport?" he asked at length, then adding quickly, "My publisher wants me to meet someone out of country."

You: "Is that so?" Mycroft asked, wondering who could possibly have anything to do with John's book outside of the country. "Yes, I can arrange a car for you. What time is your flight?"

Stranger: "Three hours," John said, figuring he'll buy a ticket really quick online and pulling up his laptop. "So, can I get a ride in about an hour?"

You: "Sure," Mycroft said, pressing the button to summon Anthea. "But, John, you're not trying to go see Dean, are you? It will be extremely dangerous to try and find him. I don't even know where exactly he is."

Stranger: "I don't even know what country he's in, so that would be fruitless," John lied smoothly.

You: Mycroft could hear something wrong in John's tone but couldn't quite tell if he was lying or not. The man had gotten extremely good at not telling Mycroft anything verbally. "Fine, good luck with whomever you're meeting," Mycroft said, nodding when Anthea walked in. "The car will be there in an hour."

Stranger: "Thank you, Mycroft," John smiled before he hung up. He stood, his ticket bought for a flight in five hours. He'll just have to spend some time in the gate. He went up to his room to pack, taking his laptop with him.

You: "Please have a car sent to pick up John at his flat in an hour," Mycroft explained to Anthea. "He needs to go to the airport." He hesitated then, wondering whether he could put a tail on John and have him notice. "And also, please have Higgins follow him unobtrusively. I have a bad feeling about his trip."

Stranger: John finished packing just as a car pulled up in front of his flat and a knock was heard on the door. He looked through the peephole and opened the door to Anthea. "Hello," he greeted.

You: "Hello," Anthea said, not typing on her phone for once. "Your car is downstairs. Are you packed?"

Stranger: "Yes," John nodded, grabbing his two bags, one carry on and one to check in. "Let's go."

You: Anthea led the way downstairs, waiting while John piled the bags in the trunk. They got in and the driver took them to Heathrow. "Safe travels, John," Anthea said, looking up from her phone before John could get out.

Stranger: John nodded at Anthea as he collected his bags and got out. He went up to the counter and got his tickets, checking his bag in as well. He made his way up to gate B21 and sat in one of the seats, pulling out his phone.  
Hey, Dean. You free? -JW

You: Hello, John. For a short time, yes. You have some time to talk? - Dean

Stranger: About four hours. -JW

You: Such a specific timeframe. What did you want to talk about, love? - Dean

Stranger: Not sure. Just haven't heard from you in some time and wanted to talk. I miss you. -JW

You: I miss you, too and I'm sorry. Complications arose but I'm working through them. - Dean

Stranger: How is your mission? -JW

You: Difficult. I'm looking for someone who's been captured. - Dean

Stranger: Oh? If you don't mind me asking, where are you staying? -JW

You: Just another hotel. Though this one is a bit nicer than the last few I've stayed in. - Dean

Stranger: Oh, which one? My family owns a few in France. -JW

You: Is that so? It's called Riverside, though why I have no idea. - Dean

Stranger: Oh, I've heard that's nice. Not one of them, sadly. Is the room nice? Large? -JW

You: Not too bad. Could be larger, though. I managed to turn one of the lackeys of the local drug lord and he's been helping me look for my missing operative. - Dean

Stranger: Oh, that's good for you. -JW

You: It has been a help. Though the drug lord is paranoid so we're having a hard time getting to the operative. - Dean

Stranger: That sucks. Do you have a plan? -JW

You: Right now, just trying to get information on where she is. Why do you ask? - Dean

Stranger: Can't I take interest in my possible-boyfriend's life? -JW

You: Of course you can. I'm a little suspicious of everyone right now, sorry. - Dean

Stranger: You don't need to about me, Dean. I'm here for you if you need something. -JW

You: Thank you. So how's your book coming? I'm sorry I haven't been able to ask you before now. - Dean

Stranger: I finished the editing. -JW

You: That's wonderful, John! What's next for it? Does it get published soon? - Dean

Stranger: It should. I sent it in to the publishers for one last look, and if they are happy with it, it will go on the shelves. -JW

You: That's great. Can't wait to see it. Will you let me know when the book is released? - Dean

Stranger: Of course. But I have to go now, just got called. Talk to you very soon, Dean. -JW

You: Goodbye, love. Talk to you soon. - Dean

Stranger: John pocketed the phone with a smile caressing his features as he stood, still admiring the fact he no longer needed his cane. He moved to the line of his gate and stood with his ticket in his hand. The ticket that will let him go see Dean once again.

You: The attendants worked through the line quickly, one waving John into the terminal when his turn came up. He sat down in the chairs to wait, keeping himself distracted by plotting out general ideas for another book. He had come to like the character of Gabriel Tollen, not just because he was based on Sherlock but because he was an interesting, well-rounded character.

Stranger: Sherlock sighed as he sat in the flat, taking his usual spot behind the laptop, searching for traces of Mary. It had been a few hours since he's talked to John, the time passing quickly as he worked. He jumped slightly at the knock on his door. He stood with a groan and looked through the little hole, his mouth dropping open when he saw John standing outside the door. Rene wasn't home and the room was empty otherwise as he opened the door and studied John's smiling face.

You: "Hello," John said simply, one hand lifting towards Dean. "I thought I'd come see you." He stepped into the room, his eyes locked onto Dean's quicksilver ones.

Stranger: "Wh-what... How- When-" Sherlock stuttered, the shock taking over his mind. How had John even found what room he was in?

You: "I flew earlier today," John explained, his smile falling a bit. "And you told me the hotel. It was easy from there. I asked about a man with light gray eyes staying here. They're very distinctive." He hefted his bag on his shoulder, fidgeting a bit with the strap as Dean made no move other than to stare at him.

Stranger: Sherlock took a few more seconds to take John in, the shock sinking away. He took John's bags from him quickly and set them aside, pulling John to him. "I've missed you, don't get me wrong. I'm just shocked you found me."

You: John relaxed into the hug, bringing his arms up to wrap around Dean's waist. "I've got a few tricks up my sleeve," John joked, turning his head to press a light kiss to Dean's lips.

Stranger: Dean melted into the gentle kiss, keeping it light. Just lips on lips, barely ghosting over each other's. He let his hands drop slightly to John's hips.

You: John pressed closer to Dean, sliding his hands up the other man's back. He let out a small groan when Dean's hands grabbed his hips, urging the other man on. "I have definitely missed you," John breathed, his words ghosting over Dean's lips.

Stranger: Sherlock moaned back in response and kissed John deeper, pulling the other man closer by the hips. He took a few steps forward and pressed John against the wall gently, pressing his body against his just so they were lightly touching every place possible.

You: John was so lost in the feel and scent of Dean that he was completely unaware of the door opening. "Sherlock, any..." Rene started to say before stopping short and staring at the two men locked in an embrace.

Stranger: Sherlock felt hands on his chest before he was pushed away, falling on his butt with a groan. He looked up to Rene, who was looking between him and John. His eyes went up to meet John's who was glaring down at him, shock and anger fighting in his eyes for dominance.

You: "Sherlock," John repeated, his hands balling into fists. "He called you Sherlock. So, explain to me, Dean, why you are using that name. Because I can see two options, neither of which I like very much."

Stranger: "John, it's not what I- I mean, I didn't mean to- Mycroft wanted me to-" he fell quiet, not knowing what to say.

You: "So, considering that you can't give me a complete sentence, I'm just going to have to deduce, aren't I?" John spat, walking past Dean and sitting down on the bed. "You look almost identical to my friend, though the hair was completely different at first. You have a similar voice, which is easy to change. The same eyes and you didn't think about that, did you? I know what Sherlock's eyes look like because he spent so much time studying me, trying to figure me out. Why did you fake your death, Sherlock? Why did you put me through hell?" John's voice broke on the last few words, tears glimmering in his eyes.

Stranger: "John-" Sherlock stood and moved over to sit next to John on the bed, who moved over so there was more space between them, Sherlock frowning. "I had to, you have to understand. Moriarty, he was going to kill you if I didn't jump. I lied to you and put you through three years of hell because... I had to save you, John. The world couldn't lose you and... I wouldn't have been able to live without you. At least this way, I knew we would be together again one day..."

You: John stared open-mouthed at Sherlock, the pieces finally clicking together. All the times he'd been followed by Sherlock once Moran had seen him, the day Sherlock had killed Moran, everything. Relief flowed through him, followed by a sharp anger. Without warning, John lashed out and punched Sherlock, knocking him to the floor. "You bloody bastard!" John shouted, his hands curling into fists again. "I could have helped you! Who else knew because I don't think even you could have pulled this off on your own."

Stranger: Sherlock sat up slightly on the floor, avoiding John's gaze. "Molly, she housed me for most of these years. Mycroft knew, of course, he's been helping me track the IOU and even came with me to... finish off most of them. Lestrade knew after his sniper was taken care of, and he turned out to be some good help. That's about it, but I couldn't tell you, as much as I wanted to. Mycroft was convinced it wasn't safe, that you were the major target of IOU because... because Moriarty knew how much... you meant to me..."

You: "Your heart," John murmured, remembering the conversation so long ago in a darkened swimming pool. "Though I can't believe I was the only one who didn't know. What, were they all laughing at me as I got closer to you as Dean? And after you killed Moran? Why couldn't you tell me then?"

Stranger: "No, not laughing. More of... scolding me for letting you get close to me, but again, I couldn't stay away. And I didn't tell you because, again, Mycroft didn't find it safe. I was, and still am, legally dead right now, John. And he was unsure if we really did finish off the IOU. He's trying to bring me back now and double checking all of the IOU is gone, and I didn't want to put you in danger."

You: John sighed and ran a hand through his hair. This was complicated, not made any easier by the silent Rene standing near the door still. "And I'm assuming this is the man who's helping you," John said, waving a hand at Rene.

Stranger: "This is Rene, he's the one I'm trying to help out of the drug cartel that currently has the agent I was supposed to meet over a month ago," Sherlock said, watching John carefully. "Am I... allowed to get off the ground without you punching me again?"

You: "Yes, sorry," John said, contrition and an overwhelming need to touch Sherlock again rising. He took Sherlock's hand as the other man stood, pulling him down to the bed so that he could look at the wound on his cheek. A small cut had opened over his cheekbone and was surrounded by a rapidly purpling bruise.

Stranger: "I'm sorry," Sherlock muttered slowly as John turned his head away to look at the wound. "I would have told you sooner but... I-I couldn't put you in danger... couldn't lose you..."

You: "I know, Sherlock," John said softly, cupping Sherlock's chin and bringing his eyes back to meet his. "I understand. So, every time I was telling Dean how I felt about my friend, I really was telling you. You know I love you."

Stranger: "And you know I love you. Every time I told you how I felt as Dean, I meant it. That's why I was able to tell you I love you so early," Sherlock said quietly. He turned to Rene, who was still standing awkwardly in the doorway. "Could you give us some time?"

You: Rene nodded silently and left the room, closing the door behind him. John watched him go then turned back to Sherlock. He studied the man with new eyes, wondering why he didn't pick it up before. Though, to be fair, he did believe Sherlock was dead. "It's good to have you back," John murmured before leaning forward and capturing Sherlock's lips in a light kiss.

Stranger: Sherlock kept the kiss for a few minutes before pulling back and looking John in the eyes. "I was afraid you wouldn't let me back," he said slowly. "That'd you hate me for leaving you. Also, don't tell Mycroft I told you, okay? Can you act like I'm still dead? Like you think that, at least? Call me Dean around him? Or else he'll kill us both."

You: John chuckled, imagining Mycroft's reaction if he found out. "You really think I wouldn't be ecstatic to learn you were alive?" he asked, shaking his head. "And sure, I can do that. Mycroft doesn't know I'm meeting with you. He thinks I'm meeting with someone to talk about my book."

Stranger: "You're brilliant," Sherlock chuckled before leaning forward and kissing John again. "I've been wanting to do this... for so... long..." he said between kisses.

You: John hummed in agreement, winding his arms around Sherlock's neck and pulling him close. He licked into Sherlock's mouth again, feeling like it was familiar and wonderfully new all at the same time.

Stranger: Sherlock moved closer till their hips were rubbing against each other. He leaned back, pulling John's hips forward till John was straddling his hips. He ground up against him, moaning deeply. "So long..." he panted.

You: John tangled his fingers in Sherlock's hair, pulling just enough to tip his head back. Trailing kisses down Sherlock's jaw, John stopped over the pulse point and sucked hard, marking Sherlock with a round, red bruise. "It's better, this time," John panted, moving his hips in time with Sherlock's. "Knowing who you really are."

Stranger: Sherlock pulled John's hips down so they were grinding harder against each other. He fell back so John was laying across him and kissed him harder.

You: "Rene won't be... interrupting, will... he?" John panted, slipping his hands underneath Sherlock's shirt and skimming up to rub over his nipples.

Stranger: "N-no... oh my God... John..." Sherlock muttered as John played with his hardening nipples, his back arching into his touch.

You: "You have no idea how many times I dreamed this," John whispered, licking at Sherlock's collarbone. "After you were gone. I wanted you desperately and I thought I'd never see you again."

Stranger: "W-well, I'm yours now, if you wish to take me?" Sherlock offered, his head rolling back to give John more room, a small whimper escaping his lips.

You: John groaned, nuzzling at the skin under Sherlock's jaw before sucking another red mark just underneath the point. "I think I may," John whispered darkly. "But before then, I'm going to learn every inch of your skin." He pushed Sherlock's shirt up and pulled it over his shoulders before pushing Sherlock back down onto the bed to stare.

Stranger: Sherlock shivered under John look, his eyes roaming over every inch of Sherlock's skin. Slowly, he ran his hands under John's shirt and pulled it up. "Off?" he begged, tugging at it again.

You: John slipped out of his shirt and threw it on the floor next to the bed. He straddled Sherlock's legs then, kissing him before trailing down to lave his tongue roughly over one nipple.

Stranger: Sherlock arched his back up into John's mouth, trying to get closer. His hands made their way back down to John's hips, pulling him closer and trying to crush the space between them that wasn't there.

You: John chuckled at Sherlock's desperation, moving to the other nipple and lavishing the same attention on it. Once both were hard, he moved down and licked over Sherlock's stomach before coming to rest above the waistband of his pants. He glanced up at Sherlock, the question in his eyes.

Stranger: "D-don't stop, John," Sherlock moaned, bucking his hips up slightly off the bed. "I've waited too... too long..."

You: "Your wish, my command, love," John replied a bit whimsically before undoing Sherlock's jeans and sliding them down. He pressed kisses over Sherlock's hips, trailing his tongue down the groove to Sherlock's groin. John teased at the skin, getting closer and closer to Sherlock's erection before skipping over it to press a kiss somewhere else.

Stranger: "You're... a fucking tease... John," Sherlock moaned, bucking again. His head fell back to the pillows and his eyes closed as John worked the over sensitive skin down by his member.

You: John laughed, his breath rushing over Sherlock's erection and causing him to twitch. Finally, he licked at the head and down, following the vein on the underside with his tongue. He pressed a kiss to the base before continuing down, sucking Sherlock's balls into his mouth one at a time. "Better?" he asked, coming back up to grin at Sherlock.

Stranger: "D-don't... GOD... don't you dare stop!" Sherlock cried, bucking up again. He couldn't help the movement, his body begging for more.

You: John grinned and licked over Sherlock's erection again before taking the head into his mouth. He sucked hard then sank down slowly, licking over the skin as he went.

Stranger: Sherlock bucked up and forced himself down John's throat. "S-sorry," he muttered. "C-can't help... help it..."

You: "It's all right, love, just relax," John said, pressing Sherlock's hips into the bed. Once he was sure Sherlock couldn't move, he took Sherlock's erection in his mouth again, sinking as far down as he could. Wrapping his fingers around what his mouth didn't reach, John started sucking and stroking again.

Stranger: Sherlock moaned and bit down on his knuckle, since he was unable to move his hips. "You... you feel so good... around me... love..."

You: John hummed, looking up to watch Sherlock's face. He enjoyed the look of sheer bliss on the other man's face, knowing that he was the one driving the brilliant man crazy. John kept moving for a few more minutes then pulled off before Sherlock could orgasm.

Stranger: Sherlock whimpered and lifted his head to stare down at John, noticing his hazy eyes that were blown with lust. "W-why did you s-stop?" he panted.

You: "Because I don't want you to come yet," John explained, moving back up to kiss Sherlock. "This is as much your reunion with me as it is mine with you. What would you like to do, Sherlock?"

Stranger: "W-would you... would you..." Sherlock didn't know how to ask and soon his face was lighting up a bright red. He took John's hips and pulled down, hoping John would understand.

You: "You weren't at a loss for words before, love," John murmured, grinding down into Sherlock hips, a wicked grin on his face. "What do you want me to do to you?"

Stranger: "I-I want you to... to take me..." Sherlock muttered, leaning up to kiss John lightly.

You: John couldn't keep the kiss light after a few seconds, licking his way into Sherlock's mouth and claiming him. He pulled at the other man's pants, shoving them down and off his legs. "I can do that," John panted, leaning back up for air. "God, how I want to do that."

Stranger: Sherlock worked on John's button and zipper, tugging on the fabric. "Lift," he whispered, pulling John's pants to his ankles when he did so.

You: John kicked his pants off the bed, laying his weight down on Sherlock and grinding their hips together. He groaned at the feeling, pressing fevered kisses to Sherlock's throat. "You have... lube?" John asked, his voice gravelly.

Stranger: Sherlock shook his head. "N-no. I didn't know you were... coming, remember?" he groaned back, his voice heavy with lust and want.

You: John sighed but decided to just use saliva and go with it. He pressed his fingers against Sherlock's mouth, waiting until it opened and he could dip them inside. "Lick," he ordered.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and sucked on John's fingers hard. He swirled his tongue around the fingers, sucking while doing so. He kept up the routine until John placed his other hand on Sherlock's cheek and pressed one finger to the bottom of his lips, telling his silently to stop.

You: When Sherlock released his fingers, John nudged his legs open and settled between them. He slid his fingers up to Sherlock's entrance, teasing at the muscle until it relaxed. John then slipped one finger inside slowly, kissing Sherlock as he did so.

Stranger: Sherlock moaned loudly and it was swallowed at once by John's lips. "God," he groaned. "Y-you feel so... so good...."

You: "Good," John replied, smiling. "It's going to feel even better." He eased the finger in, stretching as he went until he crooked it and brushed against the nerves he knew were there.

Stranger: Sherlock squirmed and whimpered before it turned into a moan. He turned his head and buried it in a pillow.

You: When he thought Sherlock was stretched enough, John slid his finger out long enough to add a second. Both fingers sank in easily and John pumped them hard to get more cries out of Sherlock.

Stranger: Sherlock cried out into the pillow, his teeth sinking into the pillow and his fingers into the sheets of the bed. "G-GOD! JOHN!" he cried.

You: "That's it, love, keep screaming for me," John purred, adding a third finger and finding the bundle of nerves again.

Stranger: Sherlock whimpered before another scream left his throat, his knuckles becoming white against the sheets. "God, John... please... h-hurry... need... need you..."

You: John laughed and withdrew his fingers, kneeling between Sherlock's legs. He leaned down to kiss Sherlock as he guided himself into his entrance, slowly sinking in. "You're gorgeous like this," John whispered darkly. "Spread out and begging for me."

Stranger: Sherlock could only whimper as John filled him. "P-please... John, please," Sherlock begged, unsure of what he was begging for. "Please..."

You: "Whatever you want, Sherlock," John said, finally sinking in the last inch. He paused for a few moments to let Sherlock get used to the width then pulled out and snapped his hips forward. John set a fast, rough pace, one hand snaking down to wrap around Sherlock's erection and stroke it in time.

Stranger: "Oh... Oh god..." Sherlock moaned, his toes curling into the sheets, his head thrown to the side and himself panting into the pillows. "So... so good..."

You: "Fuck, Sherlock," John swore, wrapping his arms around Sherlock's waist and holding tightly. He groaned at each thrust, pressing sloppy kisses to Sherlock's throat.

Stranger: "K-kiss me," Sherlock begged, the sweat starting to make his hair stick to his forehead. "P-please... miss... you..."

You: "Yes," John moaned, laying his lips over Sherlock's. The kiss was sloppy and dirty, more clashing of teeth and tongues than anything gentle. John fought for dominance in the kiss but eventually gave up to Sherlock, letting the other man plunder his mouth.

Stranger: Sherlock moaned loudly as he was allowed to explore John's mouth, his tongue rubbing against his. He loved the feeling of John filling him and the warm and wet feeling he got of John's mouth.

You: John groaned again, the sound swallowed by Sherlock's mouth. He felt his orgasm building and didn't fight it. Warmth coiled in his belly and after a few more sharp thrusts, he exploded. John froze above Sherlock, releasing deep inside him as their tongues danced together.

Stranger: Sherlock moaned as John filled him and after a few second, he exploded all over their stomachs, panting heavily and having a hard time dominating the kiss.

You: John felt his muscles loosen and turn liquid, all the strength gone in the haze that covered his mind. He slipped out of Sherlock carefully, pressing one final kiss to his lips before sitting on the side of the bed. "Why did we wait so long?" he asked wonderingly, looking down at Sherlock.

Stranger: "I was... afraid," Sherlock admitted, staying spread across the bed. He pulled John down next to him and wrapped the blanket around them.

You: "Yeah, me too," John admitted, throwing an arm over Sherlock's chest. "It took me thinking you were gone to finally admit I loved you."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded. "I knew I loved you for a while, but I was scared you didn't feel the same," Sherlock muttered. "I didn't want to risk you leaving for good."

You: "And you couldn't deduce it from me?" John asked, huffing out a laugh. "You know everything else about me Sherlock."

Stranger: "I... didn't know what to look for with you," Sherlock said slowly. "I thought you did, but I didn't want to risk it. It was better for me to keep my feelings to myself then to have you leave me forever and never talk to me again."

You: "Well, no danger of that now," John replied, trailing his fingers in random patterns over Sherlock's stomach. "Though I was angry enough when I found out who you were that I was considering it."

Stranger: Sherlock frowned and fell quiet, avoiding John's eyes. "Sorry..." he muttered.

You: "I forgive you, love," John said softly, leaning up to press a kiss to Sherlock's lips. "It's all right. Though we may want to get dressed soon. I don't want to be completely naked when your friend comes back."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and stood from the bed, bending over to gather their clothes and throwing John his. "Well, we only have two places to sleep, the couch and the bed. So, if you're okay with it... we can sleep together? Or I can take the floor, it's up to you."

You: "Together," John said decisively then pulled his shirt on over his head. "Now that I have you again, I'm not letting you go." He finished dressing, watching the play of Sherlock's muscles as the detective dressed.

Stranger: “And I don’t want to let you go either,” Sherlock nodded, moving over to John and pulling him into a tight hug. “Now that I finally have you back and all.”

You: John returned the hug, burying his face in Sherlock’s shoulder and breathing in the scent of the man he’d thought he had lost for good. Now that he knew Sherlock wasn’t dead, it was actually kind of surprising he hadn’t figured it out before now. Seeing but not observing ran through John’s mind again.

Stranger: Sherlock pulled back and took John’s hand. “I think I should let Rene back in now,” he chuckled, dragging John with him.

You: John allowed himself to be dragged after Sherlock, laughter bubbling on his lips. He felt so much lighter than he had in three years and honestly couldn't find it in himself right now to be angry at Molly, Mycroft and Lestrade for keeping Sherlock's existence from him.

Stranger: Sherlock opened the door to the room and looked at the staircase across from the room. He saw Rene sitting there with his back to the door. "Rene? You can come back in now if you wish," Sherlock said, his tone serious. "Sorry for the long wait."

You: "It's all right," Rene replied, getting up and walking into the room. "I understand needing time. However, I don't think Mary has much more time left to her. Desmond was complaining to some of the other people that she won't give him what he wants."

Stranger: "Shit," Sherlock cursed, going back into the room and letting go of John's hand to open his laptop. "We have to figure out where his next move will be, that way we can intercept him." He muttered as he started typing in things to his computer. "Any ideas or hints that you've heard? Any at all?"

You: "He mentioned a warehouse, one that was used for making bricks about fifty years ago," Rene said doubtfully. "He may move her there next."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded, quickly loading a new search page and typing in just that. "And what won't she give him? Information? What?"

You: "Information," Rene replied succinctly, moving to the couch and sitting down after one glance at the bed. "He believes she gave information to rival cartels. According to Desmond, Mary keeps insisting he's wrong."

Stranger: "Then how could he possibly be saying she's not giving him information?" John piped up, going to Sherlock's side and sitting on the table next to the laptop, the only spot not cluttered in papers. "I mean, if she's saying she didn't do it, and he doesn't have proof, then how can he say she's not giving him what he wants?"

You: Rene shrugged eloquently, raising his hands in a defeated gesture towards John. "I have no idea," he admitted. "But Desmond believes that she turned traitor. Believes it's just a matter of time before she gives him the information he wants. He's planning on moving her tomorrow night."

Stranger: "There's an old abandoned warehouse about thirty miles outside the East side of town," Sherlock said, scanning his computer screen. "Abandoned for fifty-one years and used to make bricks. Only one around that's still standing. Has to be there. We should move tomorrow morning, around four in the morning, and find a place to stake out."

You: Rene nodded and got up from the couch again. "I'm going for dinner then," he said. "We should make it an early night if we want to get there before sunrise."

Stranger: "I'll join you," Sherlock said, closing his computer and standing. "John?" He held his hand out in offer for the doctor to come.

You: "Sure," John said, taking the hand and tucking it in the crook of his elbow. "Dinner sounds good. You've both been here for a while. What's a good place to go to?"

Stranger: "There's a nice place up on the North side of town we haven't been to since our first night meeting each other," Rene said, shrugging one shoulder. Sound good to you guys?"

You: Sherlock smiled and nodded, walking towards the door with John. "I'd like to go back there," Sherlock said, talking quietly into John's ear. "When I was there, I thought of that first case we had when we ate at Angelo's. Very similar ambiance."

Stranger: "Can't wait then," John smiled, loving just having Sherlock back. "Sherlock, by the way, I never told you... That note you left me, under the skull... Thank you. It... Really saved me."

You: "Good," Sherlock said decisively as they walked downstairs and outside. "I could see you suffering and Lestrade told me and I just had to tell you. I heard your speech at my funeral." He hailed a cab and waited while Rene got in followed by John.

Stranger: "You heard that?" John asked, his face blushing. "I guess you saw I was crying, too, huh?" He chuckled dryly and blushed deeper, turning his head away.

You: "I did and I'm sorry," Sherlock said seriously, making no move to belittle John's actions. "I'm sorry I had to make you believe I was dead. Had to make you watch me fall."

Stranger: "It killed me, Sherlock," John said slowly. "I tried to kill myself a few times. One time, I cut my wrists and needed a bloody transfusion. I swear, the guy that gave it to me looked just like you, but he was one of Mycroft's friends' who lived in the Americas."

You: Sherlock felt a guilty look cross his face and knew John would catch it. "That was me," Sherlock said softly. "You have a rare blood type that we share. I was the only one who could get to you in time and you were still in danger from Moran. That's why Mycroft lied."

Stranger: "T-that was you?" he asked slowly. He remembered how out of it he was and blushed deeper. "I-I'm sorry you had to see me... Like that..."

You: "No apology necessary, John," Sherlock said, meeting John's eyes. "I know what it feels like to need an out so much that you take whatever way you can."

Stranger: John nodded and let the blush fade slowly. He leaned up to peck Sherlock on the corner of the mouth. "I'm glad I don't want to find a way out anymore," he muttered into Sherlock's ear. "Too much work."

You: "I completely agree," Sherlock whispered back. "Besides, I'd like to see Mrs. Hudson's face when we tell her we won't be needing two bedrooms anymore."

Stranger: John chuckled softly. "So you want to sleep together even when we get home?" John asked with a smile. "You won't, like, push me away?"

You: "Of course not," Sherlock said, voice rising. "Why would I push you away after everything I went through to keep you safe?"

Stranger: "Just like, you won't tell me sleeping is boring or that it's tedious and you don't need it? You'll come to bed with me?" John asked, pulling Sherlock closer to him and wrapping his arm around the taller man's waist. "And you won't mind cuddling and stuff?"

You: "Well, if there's a case, sleeping is boring," Sherlock replied, frowning. "But otherwise, yes, I'll go to bed with you and cuddle. I may not have sought out relationships before but I have an idea of how they work."

Stranger: "But you'll come to bed when the case doesn't require you awake, right?" John asked quietly, reaching up to peck Sherlock on the lips quickly.

You: "Yes, John, I can do that," Sherlock replied, smiling softly. "Though we may want to wait to finish this conversation. Rene is looking a little uncomfortable and we're just about at the restaurant."

Stranger: John blushed lightly and nodded, falling quiet and looking out of the window of the cab. He watch in silence for the last ten minutes until the cab pulls up to the restaurant and Sherlock nudged him out gently. He waited for the other two males to go first, following the two of them.

You: John waited then took Sherlock’s hand again once the other man had paid their fare. Rene walked ahead, intent on giving them a moment alone while he found a table. “So,” John asked, twining their fingers together. “Can I help you find this agent you’re looking for?”

Stranger: Sherlock sighed and thought for a moment. “Are you sure you want to?” he asked at last. “I mean... you haven’t had much leg-work for about three years. What if something happens?”

You: “Sherlock, I’ve been bored out of my mind for these last years when I wasn’t writing,” John argued as they walked into the restaurant. “I think I can handle the work. Besides, we’ll be working together again.”

Stranger: “And you know I want you by my side again, helping me solve cases and everything, but I don’t want someone to hurt you, or for you to get hurt,” Sherlock muttered as they stopped by the table Rene found and slid into one of the booths.

You: John sat down next to Sherlock while Rene took the other side. A waitress came over and got their drink order, keeping conversation to a minimum, but when she left, John turned to Sherlock and said, “I was a soldier, Sherlock. I think I can handle just about anything a gang can throw at me.”

Stranger: Sherlock sighed heavily before shaking his head. “Don’t take this the wrong way, John, but you’ve... gained some weight,” Sherlock muttered, motioning at John’s form. “You’re not the soldier you used to be, John. You’re not in the same shape you were before. It’s been three years where all you did was write your amazing novel and do small leg work, nothing your body was used to doing. It was expected. Unavoidable. I just don’t want you jumping into something you’re not ready for. You were a soldier, yes, John. And as an ex-soldier, you should know when it’s too much.”

You: John glared at Sherlock for a moment before dropping his gaze down. It was true, he hadn’t been nearly as active for the past few years as he had been before. “Then I’ll let you advise when you think something is too difficult for me to handle on my own,” John replied quietly. “And I know my limits as well.”

Stranger: “You’ll have a part in this, John, I promise you that,” Sherlock said, taking John’s hand, seeing the disappointment in his eyes. “It might just... not be out there on the front line.”

You: John didn’t reply, just took a sip of water once the waitress returned. The three looked over the menu, John being the only one who didn’t have an idea what was served. After their orders were taken, Rene spoke up. “Sherlock, we could use a third person when trying to free Mary,” he said seriously.

Stranger: “What would be done?” Sherlock asked, looking at Rene.

You: “Well, there’s going to be four guards,” Rene said thoughtfully, tapping a finger on the side of his glass. “And at least one of those guards will have a phone and orders to call Desmond if anything happens. We need to try to deal with them as close to simultaneously as possible to prevent someone from calling for help.”

Stranger: Sherlock nodded slowly, thinking through all of what Rene just said. He turned to John, “Do you think you can do it?”

You: “Probably,” John nodded. “We would just need to attack them together. That’s something we used to do in the military. Or we could draw them out into a trap.”

Stranger: “If we can get them out into a trap, that may be easier,” Sherlock said, nodding at John and wrapping an arm around the doctor. “And safer.”

You: “Rene is there anything they might come out to see?” John asked, turning to the other man. “Maybe someone we can impersonate?”

Stranger: “Not for sure, unless we can impersonate Desmond himself,” Rene said, thinking. “Otherwise, they may not fall for it.”

You: “So what if we staged a break-in?” John suggested, a frown crossing his face. “I mean, if someone was legitimately trying to get in, they’d have to check it out, right?”

Stranger: “And shoot,” Sherlock said, shaking his head. “They’d shoot at the first sign of movement they see. It’s not worth it.”

You: “So what do you suggest, Sherlock?” John asked, turning to the other man, annoyed.

Stranger: Sherlock fell quiet and thought for a moment, sipping from the water that was in front of him for time. “Well,” he said slowly, setting his cup down. “We could always draw them out of the building somehow. Set off a firecracker or something and shoot them from a distance when they come out to investigate. We’d be out of sight and still able to hit them.”

You: “But they might still call Desmond if they thought something was wrong,” John pointed out, then turned to Rene. “How flexible is Desmond with his lackeys? Will they call immediately or investigate first?”

Stranger: “Investigate,” Rene said, almost at once. “Desmond doesn’t want them bothering him unless they can’t solve it themselves. He’d kill whoever called him in the middle of whatever he was doing just for some stupid little problem.”

You: “Then maybe a firecracker is the best way to go,” John said thoughtfully, sending a small smile to Sherlock. “And my aim is as good as ever. I’m sure I can take out whoever walks through the door.”

Stranger: “You’re a good shot?” Rene asked, quirking an eyebrow and sipping his water.

You: “Yes,” John said simply, smiling wider. They fell silent again when the waitress came back with their food and John sniffed appreciatively. Everything smelled absolutely delicious.

Stranger: Sherlock smiled and gave the waitress a small nod as she placed the food down on their table. He smiled at John as the doctor unwrapped his utensils from the napkin and started into the food. “Is it good?” Sherlock asked, his voice low as he smiled.

You: “It’s wonderful,” John replied quietly, meeting Sherlock’s eyes. “Probably one of the most delicious things I’ve tasted.”

Stranger: “I’m glad,” Sherlock chuckled before he pecked John on the cheek and turned to his own food. “Now, for the next problem,” he continued from their previous conversation. “Guns. I didn’t bring mine, thinking I wouldn’t need it. And my guess is you didn’t pack yours, John?”

You: “No, I didn’t,” John admitted. “There was no way I could get it through airport security. And I don’t have anymore of Greg’s badges that you nicked either.”

Stranger: “Understandable,” Sherlock nodded, turning on Rene. “And what about you? I’m guessing you have guns but under Desmond’s control?”

You: “Yes,” Rene replied slowly, his eyes tracking off to the left. “However, I still have one that I had on me that day you met me. And I may know where a cache is, as long as no one’s moved it.”

Stranger: “Cache?” John asked slowly, raising an eyebrow. “Explain? Will you?”

You: “Desmond doesn’t like to keep all his resources in one place or all with the same people,” Rene explained. “That man is paranoid, seriously paranoid. He tends to keep caches of guns, money, what-have-you in secret places so that he can always get to them no matter what. I remember where one is.”

Stranger: “I see,” John nodded, thinking for a moment. “And how do we find these caches?”

You: “They are basically impossible to find unless you know where they are,” Rene said sadly. “However, before Desmond sent me to look in Mary’s flat, he let me know the location of one cache so I could get an untraceable gun from it.”

Stranger: “So that makes two,” Sherlock muttered, thinking for a while. “Well, I do have Mycroft’s card... I can always go out and buy one for you, John. I know you like certain guns and... well... I do owe you another birthday present...” Sherlock smiled as he thought back to the ring and the pen that sat safely back in Molly’s flat.

You: “Another?” John asked, completely diverted for a few moments. “What do you mean, another?”

Stranger: “You’ll see,” Sherlock smirked and caught the doctor on the lips quickly.

You: John kissed back, wondering what exactly Sherlock could have gotten for him. He turned his attention back to his food, taking a few bites and listening as Rene and Sherlock continued the conversation.

Stranger: “So I’ll take John out after this to get a gun and we can set up for tomorrow when we get back. I figure we can use the computer image to find the best possible locations to set up the firecracker along with ourselves,” Sherlock said, taking a few bites of his food and keeping one eye on his doctor, still happy to have him back by his side.

You: “That sounds good,” Rene nodded. “While you do that, I can go back and get another gun from the cache. I doubt Desmond will notice one missing for a while. I also know a friend of a friend who sells fireworks.”

Stranger: “Alright, you grab those and we’ll meet back at the room,” Sherlock nodded. He turned back to his food, finishing it soon after John finished his.

You: “We should definitely come back here sometime,” John said as they paid their check. He linked his arm with Sherlock’s again as the three men walked back outside, looking for a cab.

Stranger: Sherlock squeezed John’s arm with his and smiled down at the doctor. “If you want to, I’d love to come back maybe before we head back to London,” he said, watching as a cab stopped for him as he raised his hand. “Maybe as an official date?”

You: “Sure,” John nodded. When the cab came to a stop, he let Rene get in first then followed Sherlock. He was already feeling a bit tired, the revelations of the day taking a lot out of him. “I don’t know about you guys, but sleep is looking like an awesome idea right now.”

Stranger: “It does, yes,” Sherlock smiled, thinking of wrapping his arms around John again. “But we have to finish what needs to be done today before we can think about sleep, sadly.”

You: “And what is that?” Rene asked curiously, turning his head from the window to meet Sherlock’s eyes.

Stranger: “Guns, come on guys, you can’t really be that tired,” Sherlock snapped at the two of them. He sighed loudly and lowered his voice. “We leave at four in the morning to go get set up around the building, if you guys think we can get the cache before that, or even if a gun shop is open at that ungodly hour, think a little.”

You: “You have a point,” Rene acknowledged. He tapped the window and when the cabby turned, told him to head to a different address than the first one given. At Sherlock’s questioning look, he said, “I may as well get as close to the place as I can before getting out of the cab. It’s a bit in the middle of nowhere.”

Stranger: “Alright, I’m sure there’s a gun shop somewhere around there,” Sherlock said, nodding and turning slightly in his seat so he could look out John’s window. “If not, John and I can walk.”

You: “Sure,” John said, nodding. He had missed all the exercise he used to get, running around London with Sherlock. A walk sounded very good after dinner. He leaned against Sherlock slightly as they headed to a dingier part of town, their shoulders rubbing together.

Stranger: Sherlock wrapped an arm around John’s shoulders as he leaned into him, keeping the doctor close to his side. He couldn’t even begin to explain how much he missed this man.

You: The cab stopped next to a rundown building, the windows that weren’t boarded up broken. Rene got out after paying his part of the fare, waving to Sherlock and John before starting down the street. With any luck, he’d be done before they were.

Stranger: Sherlock directed the cabbie just a few blocks east of where they were, knowing they had more luck in that part rather than this close-to-being ghost town. He paid the rest of the fee and got out of the cab, waiting for John to follow.

You: John stepped out of the cab and stretched surreptitiously. He could feel adrenaline start to flow through his system, even though they were just running an errand, basically. This happened every time he was with Sherlock, the expectancy of danger. John grinned, his eyes flashing with the thrill.

Stranger: “Calm down there, John,” Sherlock chuckled, wrapping an arm around John’s shoulders and noticing the flash of thrill. “As cute as it is, we’re just going to buy you a gun.”

You: “I know that,” John laughed, one arm snaking around Sherlock’s waist and hugging him. “But do you know how much I missed this? I’ve been bored out of my mind when I wasn’t depressed for the past few years.”

Stranger: “I know, and I’m still sorry about that,” Sherlock muttered, kissing the top of John’s head as the shorter man hugged him. “I hope I can make it up to you later on.”

You: “Just you being back is an excellent start,” John admitted, starting to walk down the sidewalk without letting go. “What are you going to do when we get back to London?”

Stranger: “I can’t move back into 221B right away, sadly,” he said, but quickly added when John frowned up at him worriedly, “Only because if I do Mycroft may figure it out and skin us both alive. As soon as he give me the clear, I’ll have to “reveal” myself to you again and then, hopefully, you’ll let me come back.”

You: “Of course I will,” John snorted, rolling his eyes. “Though Mycroft is probably going to know. He’s very good at reading me, especially since... I was in the hospital.” John was hesitant to talk to Sherlock about that, even knowing that the man had been the one to donate blood to him. It still felt like he’d lost himself, giving up and not going on.

Stranger: “Hopefully he’ll be too busy with Lestrade to notice, then,” he said, hearing the pause in John’s voice. “And don’t think about the hospital, John. That was in the past. You won’t be going back for anything like you’ve been there for in the past three years. As long as you don’t try to kill yourself again, that is. I’m here to help you if something does go wrong and drags you that close again, but I won’t be losing you.”

You: “I don’t think I’ll be going there again,” John said wryly. “Losing you was what pushed me to it. You’re alive so there’s no reason now.” He stopped outside a small store, the windows grimy and hard to see through. A small sign in French proclaimed it to be a gun store. “I guess this place is as good as any.”

Stranger: “I didn’t know you could speak French,” Sherlock said as he held the door open for John.

You: “I know a few words,” John replied, smiling as they stepped inside. “It seemed helpful to be able to say “Do you have a gun” or things like that in different languages.” He walked up to the glass counter, surveying the handguns on display inside it. He pointed to a black Glock, waiting while the clerk unlocked the counter and pulled out the gun.

Stranger: Sherlock watch John carefully as the doctor weighed the gun, holding it out as if ready to shoot from it to see how it handled. “What do you think?” Sherlock asked, smirking as John quickly jumped into the same stance, just in a different direction.

You: “It is similar enough to my old gun that it shouldn’t take much to get used to it,” John replied, laying the gun on the counter. He pointed at another one and held that one too, trying to decide which one felt more comfortable in his hand. Finally, John decided to go with the Glock, pulling out his wallet to pay for the gun.

Stranger: “I got it, John,” Sherlock said, stepping forward and quickly handing over his card before John could even get his wallet open. “Remember, one of your birthday gifts.”

You: “Right,” John said, shaking his head though he wore a small smile. “You need to tell me what the others are. I’m really curious.”

Stranger: “I can’t tell you, silly,” Sherlock chuckled, taking his card back and stealing a kiss from John. “Not until we get home.”

You: The clerk rolled his eyes but packaged up the gun with the clip it came with in a box. He handed it to John asking, “You want any ammunition with this?”

Stranger: “Enough for ten clips, if you would,” Sherlock said quickly, knowing John would protest. “Put it on the same card.”

You: The clerk nodded and went into the back to grab the boxes of ammunition. He packed them into another box and handed it to John, then put the purchase on Sherlock’s card. He handed it back and nodded. “Have a good day, gentlemen.”

Stranger: “You too,” Sherlock said over his shoulder as he led John from the store. He hailed a cab for the two of them and opened the door to let John in. He listed the address off to the cabbie for their hotel and leaned back into the seat to wrap an arm around John’s waist. “Happy Birthday, John,” Sherlock smiled before pecking John on the cheek.

You: “Thanks,” John replied, leaning into Sherlock again. While the detective looked like he had been carved from cold marble, the man radiated heat like a furnace and it felt very good to John. “Why did you get me birthday presents while you were gone? What changed?”

Stranger: “I started realizing how much I really did care for you,” Sherlock said, thinking for a moment. “I wanted to show you I was thinking of you, even while I was gone.”

You: “That’s very kind and sweet,” John replied, surprised. This was definitely a side of Sherlock that he hadn’t seen all that often. Though, John suspected, for all of Sherlock’s claims to the contrary, that the man really did have a heart. “Thank you. Though, by home do you mean the flat or the hotel?”

Stranger: “London,” Sherlock smiled. “I want to give them to you. One is... very personal. I don’t want to tell you what it is and ruin the shock.”

You: John eyed Sherlock, wondering what he could possibly have gotten for him. “Fine,” John finally said. “But you know it’s going to drive me crazy until I know what they are, right?” The cab pulled up outside the hotel, stopping near the doors.

Stranger: “Oh, I know,” Sherlock smirked, climbing out of the cab and waiting for John before he continued. “But hopefully I can distract you long enough for you to be able to wait till we get home.” He pulled John close to him by the shoulders, knowing anywhere lower would make John drop his boxes.

You: “You can try,” John replied, a distinct challenge in his voice. He nudged Sherlock with his shoulder before heading inside and over to the elevators. “I wonder how Rene fared in his adventure,” John said with a smile.

Stranger: “I don’t know if he’d even be back yet,” Sherlock breathed into John’s ear, dropping his voice a few octaves. “We were rather quick... so we may be alone for a while.”

You: “Very possibly,” John agreed, his mouth going dry at Sherlock’s voice. He just loved that rumbling baritone. John stepped closer to Sherlock as the elevator dinged and the doors opened. With a grin, John walked inside and pressed the button for the floor the room was on.

Stranger: As soon as the doors slid closed, Sherlock had John against the elevator wall, kissing him deeply. He held the boxes now in one of his arms, his other cupping John’s chin. “What do you want to do if we are alone?” Sherlock growled between kisses.

You: *thanks. he’s better now. mom realized he was really hyperglycemic (too much sugar not enough insulin when my aunt gave him the shot, the cat got better, so everything’s good.*  
“Nothing specific, to be honest,” John murmured, hooking one arm over the back of Sherlock’s neck and pulling him close. “What do you think we should do?”

Stranger: “I have a few ideas,” Sherlock muttered. “Maybe have you over a desk till you beg for mercy.” He paused and got in closer to John, taking his lobe in his teeth and tugging on it gently. “Twice.”

You: John laughed, echoes of a previous case in his mind. “You really think so?” he asked slyly, turning his head to nibble gently at the underside of Sherlock’s jaw. “You think you can make me beg?”

Stranger: “You’ve begged for me before,” Sherlock growled as the elevator dinged and opened, a couple of young teenage boys stepping in. “Why not again?”

You: John blushed as the teenagers got in, shooting a glare at the back of their heads. He stayed silent for the rest of the ride, sidling out when the doors opened on their floor. “Maybe I want to make you try harder,” John suggested when they were alone in the hallway.

Stranger: “Sounds like a challenge,” Sherlock smirked, wrapping a hand around John’s waist, his hand sliding down to paw at John’s butt.

You: “You know me, Sherlock, I like challenges,” John replied, side-stepping away with a playful grin on his face. He took the key from Sherlock’s pocket and opened the door, his mouth dropping open as he saw Rene cleaning a gun on the coffee table in front of the couch.

Stranger: Sherlock saw John’s grin drop at the sight of Rene and quickly stepped up beside the doctor, bending down close to kiss his cheek and mutter into his ear seductively, “Next time, love.”

You: “Promise?” John asked, shooting a grin over his shoulder at Sherlock. “Looks like you got the gun you needed,” John said to Rene, dropping his box down on the table and taking the other one from Sherlock.

Stranger: “Of course,” Sherlock smiled back, allowing John to take the box. “Would I lie about that sort of thing?”

You: Rene eyed the two then decided he didn’t particularly want to know. “Yes, I just wanted to clean the gun. It looked like it had been sitting there a while and it’s best to make sure nothing’s wrong with it.”

Stranger: “Did you need any help with it?” John asked, unpacking his and checking it over quickly. He really liked the gun, just the shape and feel of it felt right. And the fact that it was a gift from Sherlock only made it that much better, but at the moment, John thought he wouldn’t let the detective know that bit.

You: “No, I’m just about done,” Rene said, shaking his head. He slid the gun cleaning kit over to John and started putting his gun back together. “You can use my kit if you don’t have one.”

Stranger: “Thanks,” John smiled, picking up a rag and sitting at the table across from Rene. “I left mine at home, thinking I was just going to have a relaxing time with Dean. See how wrong I was?” John laughed, sending Sherlock a glare and smirk.

You: “Wrong, perhaps, but isn’t this more fun?” Sherlock replied, a knowing glint in his eyes. “Just think of all the danger and excitement we can find.”

Stranger: “I know,” John smirked, meeting Sherlock’s gaze. “But not all of it will be on the field, you know.”

You: Rene rolled his eyes and finished putting his gun together. “You know, I can always get another room,” he offered as he stood up. “Give you guys some time.”

Stranger: John turned to him before his cheeks brightened with a light shade of pink. “Sorry, Rene. You don’t have to, I think we can control ourselves. Well, at least, I can.”

You: “If you’re sure?” Rene prompted, looking from John to Sherlock. “It’s not that much trouble, really. I just feel like I’m intruding on you two.”

Stranger: “If anyone’s intruding, it’d be me,” John laughed, waving a hand. “I mean, you two were just doing your job and I just popped in. We’ll control ourselves, isn’t that right, Sherlock?”

You: “Yes,” Sherlock sighed, rolling his eyes. “I believe I can contain myself.” He grimaced when John laughed at his tone then smiled at the doctor. “So, everything in order?”

Stranger: “It all seems to be ready to shoot,” John nodded, a smile crossing his lips as he caressed the gun in his lap. “I can’t wait to fire it off.”

You: “With any luck, you won’t miss,” Rene said darkly, thinking of the men assigned to guard Mary. “I know the guys guarding her and they are extremely mean. They like causing pain.”

Stranger: John nodded and chuckled. “Like we’re not used to it, right, Sherlock?’

You: Sherlock nodded back then moved behind the couch to drape his arms over John’s shoulders for a quick hug. “Now that that’s settled, four am comes early. Goodnight, Rene.”

Stranger: “Goodnight,” Rene answered, standing. “But, uh, kinda need you guys to get off the couch. Bed’s your tonight, Sherlock, and I take it John’s as well.”

You: “Can you give me five minutes to finish this?” John asked, holding up one of the pieces of his dismantled gun. Rene nodded and Sherlock walked away to grab a pair of pajamas. He changed first while Rene finished cleaning up after himself.

Stranger: Sherlock came back out to see John finishing up his gun, holding it an admiring it with such a loving gaze and twinkle in his eye. Sherlock came up behind him and wrapped his arms around the doctor’s shoulders. “You like it?” he whispered.

You: “I do, thank you,” John replied, one hand coming up to curl over Sherlock’s forearm. “It’s nice to know now that I have a back-up gun in case my first gets taken. But I haven’t gotten you anything for your birthday. When is it, anyways? You never mentioned it.”

Stranger: “It’s January sixth,” Sherlock said slowly, leaning down closer to John. “But you don’t have to-”

You: “I want to, you silly git,” John said fondly, leaning up to press a kiss to Sherlock’s nose. “It’s what people do on birthdays.”

Stranger: “And if I say all I want is you and a bed?” Sherlock smiled knowingly at John as he kissed his nose.

You: “I would tell you it doesn’t need to be your birthday,” John replied, winking. “Birthday presents are the large gestures or the special gestures. Maybe the one time you can get someone that expensive present they really want or something that will make them smile.”

Stranger: “Are you trying to hint at something?” Sherlock chuckled, leaning down to kiss John lightly.

You: “That’s for me to know and you to find out,” John said playfully, nipping at Sherlock’s bottom lip. “Besides, I’m sure I can think of something... creative for your birthday.”

Stranger: “But I don’t want anything,” Sherlock said, nibbling on John’s neck. “Nothing but you.”

You: “And that’s something you will always have,” John replied, tilting his head for a few seconds then pushing gently on Sherlock’s shoulder. “I need to finish this so we can sleep. Stop distracting me, love.”

Stranger: “But I enjoy distracting you,” Sherlock smirked, wrapping his arms back around John’s shoulders.

You: “Though you’re distracting him on my bed,” Rene cut in, laughing as he walked out of the bathroom. He settled down on the couch, folding his legs underneath him until he was sitting cross-legged on the cushion. “And the longer you spend here, the less sleep we all get.”

Stranger: “I hate when you’re right,” Sherlock growled at Rene before he let John go. “Hurry up, love.” He whispered to John before heading into the bedroom.

You: “How did you survive sharing a room with him?” John asked wryly, finishing cleaning his gun. “Most people can’t handle five minutes in the same room.”

Stranger: “My boss was worse and I’ve worked for him most of my life,” Rene said. “If Sherlock can make me free, I can deal with him however long it takes.”

You: “Why did you start working for him?” John asked. He finished putting the gun back together, pushing the slide back to make sure it moved freely. Once he was satisfied, John packed up the cleaning kit and slid it back across the table to Rene.

Stranger: Rene sighed and bothered his lip for a moment. “My parents died when I was young in a car crash. They both died on impact, and soon after that, my aunt, who was taking care of me for about two weeks after my parents, died as well. Desmond just kind of... picked me up and took me under his wing. As soon as I turned thirteen, I was handed a gun and was taught to shoot. He soon stopped treating me as a son and just started treating me like another worker. I couldn’t leave him; I had nowhere to go and no money to my name, I would have easily died,” he muttered, avoiding John’s eyes. He sighed before continuing. “Sherlock is my only chance. I have a little bit of money to my name, having been saving coins and bills I’ve found on my travels, but not nearly enough to make a living. Hopefully, with Sherlock’s help, I can finally stand on my own two feet. He’s my only hope for escaping this horrible man...”

You: “I can understand that. Though I’m surprised Sherlock agreed to help you. He isn’t always very... charitable,” John told him, nodding at the other man. He remembered another poor orphan who had been picked up by a gang. John only hoped that Rene got a better ending than Soo Lin did. “Goodnight, Rene.”

Stranger: “Goodnight, John,” Rene said, allowing himself to give the doctor a small smile. “See you in the morning.”

You: John changed quickly in the bathroom and slid into bed with Sherlock. He wrapped his arms around the taller man, pressing a kiss to the side of his neck. “Goodnight, Sherlock,” John whispered.

Stranger: “Goodnight, John,” Sherlock smiled, snuggling back closer in John’s grip. He tilted his head back slightly to place an awkward kiss to John’s temple before turning back and closing his eyes. He breathed in deeply, enjoying the scent of having John so close.

You: The hours passed quickly, an insistent beeping from Sherlock’s phone waking John at four AM. He groaned and turned the thing off before shaking Sherlock’s shoulder. “Sherlock, come on, love,” John coaxed him. “Time to wake up.”

Stranger: Sherlock groaned and turning in John’s arms, blinking up hazily at the doctor. “Sadly,” he muttered, leaning in to peck John on the lips, but missing slightly and hitting the corner of his mouth. He groaned again and rolled his head back.

You: John took a moment to kiss Sherlock’s neck again as it was revealed then licked a stripe up to his jaw. Laughing, John got out of bed to dress and start coffee in the coffeemaker in the bathroom.

Stranger: Sherlock growled as John got up, just wanting to lay in bed some more and hold his doctor. He forced himself up, though, and followed John into the bathroom, wrapping his arms around the smaller man’s waist, resting his chin on his shoulder. “Good morning, love,” he mumbled, pressing a kiss to John’s cheek.

You: "Good morning," John replied, yawning. He curled his hands over Sherlock's forearms, resting his head back against the other man's shoulder. "I could get used to this, you know."

Stranger: "As could I, love," Sherlock muttered, smiling slightly. "Especially at night, it can get quite cold here."

You: "Well, if everything goes according to plan, we can go home," John told him, turning his head and kissing Sherlock's temple. "Now get out of here and let me get dressed." He stepped out of Sherlock's arms and gave the taller man a playful shove, a smile on his lips.

Stranger: "I've already seen you naked," Sherlock pouted, placing his hands on John's. "I can't see you dress?" He gave John his best pouting face, batting his lashes playfully.

You: "You really think we can manage to keep our hands off each other if either of us is naked?" John asked wryly, arching one eyebrow at Sherlock. He didn't let the smile fade but stepped forward and kissed Sherlock again. "Later, I promise," he murmured against Sherlock's lips.

Stranger: "Fine," Sherlock frowned, pulling John closer by his hips. "But I'm going to hold you to it."

You: "I'd be disappointed if you didn't," John laughed, pushing away from Sherlock again. "You might want to go wake Rene up. Coffee should be ready soon."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded before starting out to the living room. He moved over to Rene and shook his shoulder. "Time to get up," he said as Rene moaned lightly.

You: "I hate mornings," Rene grumbled, scrubbing a hand over his eyes. The coffee had started to percolate by now and the scent was permeating the room. "Is that coffee?" Rene asked Sherlock hopefully.

Stranger: "Yes," Sherlock chuckled, shaking his head. "John's making the cups in the bathroom with that pathetic excuse for a coffee maker. Should be done in a few minutes." Sherlock stood up straight and started back to the room, going to get his own clothes.

 

You: Rene got up off the couch to dig through the duffel bag he'd been living out of. As he grabbed a clean set of clothes, John finished in the bathroom and came out carrying two cups of coffee. He handed one to Sherlock while Rene beelined for the bathroom and the coffeepot.

Stranger: "Thanks, love," Sherlock smiled as John handed him the coffee. He looked up as he heard the bathroom door snap shut and sighed. "Guess I get to wait again," he sighed, obviously irritated.

You: "You're welcome," John told him before sipping at his own coffee. It was still too hot to gulp, which is what John really wanted to do with it. "Don't worry, Sherlock. You'll be able to change soon." He wrapped one arm snugly around Sherlock's waist and kissed his cheek before taking another sip of coffee.

Stranger: "I know," Sherlock said, leaning down to peck on John's cheek. "Guess I'm stuck here with you for a little while longer." He smirked, nuzzling John's neck.

You: "How horrible for you," John murmured dryly, his eyes closing in pleasure. He pressed closer to Sherlock, stroking the other man's side with his fingers. They stood like that until Rene came out of the bathroom, dressed and a cup of coffee held possessively in one hand.

Stranger: "I'm suffering," Sherlock said, chuckling and nipping at John's neck. He kissed him once more before going into the bathroom.

You: John shook his head at Sherlock's departing back, settling down on the couch to check his gun one more time. It was a habit he'd picked up in the military and something that kept him distracted when he didn't want to think. He saw Rene out of the corner of his eye, the other man settling on the couch and frowning at his coffee. "Something wrong?" John asked.

Stranger: "I don't know, to be honest," Rene muttered slowly. "I guess it's just that... I've worked for this man for... So long. I grew up with him... I don't know..."

You: John continued to inspect his gun, hoping that Rene wasn't having second thoughts about the man who had basically raised him. "You can always choose not to go," John said casually. "Especially if this is going to be difficult for you."

Stranger: "I have to go," Rene said, shaking his head. "I can't stay with him. I'm miserable and if I don't leave now... I may never be able to. I may lose my opportunity."

You: "As long as you've made your choice and stick with it," John said seriously. "I don't want to have to worry about you as well as those guards."

Stranger: Rene chuckled dryly. "You won't," he said, shaking his head. "I wouldn't shoot you guys. You wouldn't have to worry."

You: "Good," John replied, nodding decisively. It was a horrible idea to take someone you weren't sure of into a combat situation, especially if they might side with the enemy. And John would do nothing that put Sherlock at risk, not now. They sat in companionable silence until Sherlock came out of the bathroom.

Stranger: "You guys ready to go?" Sherlock asked, moving into the room and giving the two men a glance before turning back to his gun, which he was putting in the small of his back.

You: "I believe so," John said, standing and tucking his gun away. Rene stood up, a determined expression on his face. "We need to hurry," he explained, heading to the door. "The shift change for the guards is at 5:30 this morning. Desmond likes to keep people on their toes by giving them weird times to do things."

Stranger: "Alright, let's head out then," Sherlock said, Rene heading to the door and going out first. Sherlock stepped up next to John, wrapping his arm around the doctor's waist as they marched down the hallway. "It's good to be back on a case with you," he muttered into John's ear.

You: "I have missed this," John replied softly, a fond smile crossing his face. "London has been boring without you." He timed his steps for a few seconds until he and Sherlock were walking together and followed Rene. They found a lone cab sitting outside the hotel, the driver half asleep. Rene gave the address as they all settled into a seat.

Stranger: Sherlock cuddled closer to John as Rene leaned back in his seat. "And it's been boring without you as well, as have every other place I've been. It's all been so... Lonely..." he admitted, his voice almost a whisper.

You: John nodded sadly, wrapping an arm around Sherlock's waist and pressing one hand possessively on his hip. "I know," he whispered back. "I wish there was some way you could have told me."

Stranger: "I wished that everyday I was away from you, John," Sherlock said slowly, moving closer to the doctor. "That's the only reason I presented myself as Dean, just to get close to you again."

You: John nodded again and sighed, leaning his forehead against Sherlock's shoulder for a moment. Then a thought crossed his mind. "So when Moran was asking about the two agents after him, that was you and Mycroft," John stated slowly. "You were the one shot."

Stranger: "Yes," Sherlock said, nodding and resting his head on John's. "That was me. I did get shot and, if Mycroft had gone after Moran like I told him to, I would have died."

You: "It's a good thing he didn't," John replied, voice turning angry. He growled as he thought of Moran, wishing suddenly that he had been the one to kill the sniper even though it went against all his instincts as a doctor. As John pointed out once to Sherlock, he was a soldier too. "Where were you shot?"

Stranger: "Once in the thigh and once in the shoulder. It's all fine, though. I mean, I'm alive," Sherlock shrugged with one shoulder.

You: John immediately ran one hand down both of Sherlock's thighs, finding the scar from the bullet wound with his fingers. He traced around the scar, feeling how close the shot had come to Sherlock's femoral artery. "This would have killed you had he hesitated," John murmured, his chest coiling with dread.

Stranger: "I know," Sherlock said, flinching as John felt the scar. He knew the doctor was likely analyzing just how close it had come to his artery and, had it had hit there, how much faster he would have died. Sherlock knew that if the bullet hit his artery, he probably wouldn't have made it to the hospital on time.

You: John noticed the flinch and pulled his fingers away. "Sorry, does it still hurt?" he apologized, resting his hand on his own thigh. John wanted to look at the wound on Sherlock's shoulder as well, but knew it would have to wait until they were in a slightly more private place than a taxi.

Stranger: "No, it doesn't... I just don't want you to worry," Sherlock said, placing his hand on top of John's, squeezing it gently. "I'm fine, John. It's just like yours, a reminder. It's no big deal..."

You: "I can't believe you told Mycroft to let you bleed out to chase Moran," John said, nudging his shoulder into Sherlock's. "Though, on second thought, that is completely you." Rene snorted, unable to help himself. The taxi was small so the best he could do was pretend not to hear their conversation.

Stranger: "I didn't honestly think it was as bad as it was," Sherlock muttered, looking at their joined hands. "And what do you mean that's 'completely me'?"

You: John laughed, the sound loud in the car. "You're the one who shot the wall because he was bored," John replied. "You're the one who wanted to call Greg about a missing rabbit because I wouldn't give you your cigarettes. Danger is sometimes your first and middle names, Sherlock."

Stranger: "And yours aren't? Besides, how is calling in a missing rabbit dangerous?" Sherlock growled, smirking. "Admit it, you're just as bad as I am!"

You: "Very true," John admitted, shrugging. Though a smile danced at the corners of his mouth. "I'm here, aren't I?" Rene laughed again as the driver pulled up outside a dilapidated warehouse. He paid the driver while Sherlock and John got out, joining the two men to stare up at the building.

Stranger: "You know this place better than either of us, Rene," Sherlock said, scanning the building. "Would you happen to know the best place to be? We have about half an hour before the shifts change, by the way."

You: Rene narrowed his eyes as he studied the building, trying to remember where everything was. "I think... we should go to the back," he finally said. "There's a blind corner that we can hide in and take out the men as they come out to investigate our distraction."

Stranger: "Lead the way," Sherlock muttered, motioning ahead of them. He stepped up next to John and the two of them followed Rene around the building.

You: Rene stopped at the far corner of the building, looking around quickly and noting where the door was. He turned to Sherlock and asked, "You ready for this? If we throw the firework before they change, the current guards should be slow and tired. Easily taken care of?" As he spoke, Rene pulled out the little firework he had picked up and a lighter.

Stranger: "I'm ready. That'll give us a twenty-five minute window to get in, get Mary and get out. Are you ready for that, John?" Sherlock asked, turning to his partner.

You: "Of course," John replied, pulling out the gun and double-checking to make sure it was loaded. His face took on a grim cast, though a thrill lit his eyes.

Stranger: Sherlock loved the fire that lit in John's eyes but resisted kissing him and instead turned to Rene. "Set it off," he said, pulling out his own gun and checking the load. He clicked off the safety and nudged John to do the same, watching Rene lit the fire cracker.

You: "Fire in the hole," Rene stated, a grin on his face. He tossed the firecracker then took refuge around the corner. "I've always wanted to say that," he confided to Sherlock and John. About five seconds later, the firecracker exploded with a sharp crack.

Stranger: "Let's go," John muttered, pushing Rene out in front of him and darting out in front of Sherlock. He couldn't help but want to put himself between harm and Sherlock. They ducked behind the corner - Sherlock forced to duck behind John - and aimed their guns, waiting.

You: A couple minutes later, two men came out the door to glare around, confused. "What do you think it was?" one whispered to the other. The other man shrugged and replied, "Car backfire?"

Stranger: John aimed his gun and took the first shot, hitting the guy square in the chest, where he knew it would be almost an instant kill. He heard a shot from his left and watched the second guy fall, his leg bleeding badly from the shot from Sherlock. John aimed and quickly took another shot, Rene firing not a millisecond after he did, both hitting the man in the head. If nothing else, that had killed him.

You: "Wait for the other two," John whispered, pulling Sherlock back around the corner and sending a glance to Rene. "The shots will draw them out."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and got down back behind John, placing a gentle hand on the small of his back as a job well done. They waited until two other men - bigger than the first pair - came out.

You: "What the hell?" the first exclaimed, checking on both downed men. They were obviously dead, blood pooling underneath them. The other man pulled a gun and scanned the alley, trying to find whoever had shot the first two guards.

Stranger: Sherlock fired his gun and hit the man without a pulled gun. The other man, the bigger of the two, turning in their direction and aimed.

You: Rene aimed and fired within a few seconds, a neat hole appearing in the last guard's forehead. He fell, the gun tumbling from nerveless fingers. "Let's go," Sherlock said, walking up to the door and shoving through it imperiously.

Stranger: John jogged and stepped up right next to Sherlock, making sure he could throw himself between Sherlock and any harm they may cross. "Where would they hold her?" John muttered even though the guards were dead.

You: "In the most secure room," Rene answered, looking around the hallway they were standing in. "Something interior with no windows. Let's try this way." Rene moved off, checking each room in the hallway as he passed to make sure no one else was hiding in them.

Stranger: John and Sherlock followed silently, their guns at the ready next to their sides. John scanned each room as well as Rene opened the doors.

You: They finally found Mary down another hallway in an interior room. She was bound to a chair, a blindfold over her eyes. Bruises marred her skin and her head hung down onto her chest as if she was exhausted. "Mary?" John asked softly, hoping the woman was still alive.

Stranger: Mary's head snapped up and turned in the direction of the voice. "Please," she muttered, her voice soft and weak. "Don't-don't hurt me... You're him, aren't you? The one they said was going to come and rape me?! Get away from me!!" Her voice was shaky and scared, her body tense and wrists where the rope held her were bleeding.

You: "We're not going to hurt you," John told her, moving quickly to her side and pulling the blindfold off. "My name's John and we're here to get you out of here." He worked at the rope around her wrists, trying to undo the knots. It was nearly impossible; her struggles had tightened the knots and blood caked them.

Stranger: Even after the reassurance, Sherlock still saw the slight fear in her eyes. He watched as John worked the knots, struggling slightly to get them to come undone. "We have ten minutes till the new shift comes around," he said, looking from John to Rene - who had taken post at the door with his gun ready. "Can you get the knot, John?"

You: "It's too tight," John admitted, glaring at the knot in his hand. "Either of you have a pocketknife on you?" He continued to work at the knot, trying to loosen it, but it remained stubbornly tight.

Stranger: "No," Rene said as Sherlock shook his head. He knelt down next to John and gently pushed him out of the way. "Let me try," he muttered.

You: John eased back and stood, smiling reassuringly at Mary when she looked at him with frightened eyes. He turned to see Rene keeping an eye out the door, gun ready in case the next group of guards came early.

Stranger: Sherlock worked the knot, the ropes burning his fingers as he worked it. He scolded as he worked the first loop looser, the knot not quite falling apart yet.

You: “Come on,” John murmured, trying to get the knot to untangle faster. Finally, when it did, he darted forward and caught Mary before she tumbled off the chair and onto the floor. “Can you walk?” he asked her, supporting her weight.

Stranger: “W-with some help,” she muttered back, standing up with John’s help, leaning heavily on the arm wrapped around his shoulders.

You: “We need to hurry,” Rene urged them, holding the door open as John and Mary walked through it. He waited until Sherlock had followed then closed the door behind them. They only had about 10 minutes before the guards would be here.

Stranger: Sherlock, seeing how much John was struggling to help Mary through the building, quickly caught up to them and looped his arm around Mary’s waist, lifting her arm around his shoulders. “Thought you could use some help,” he smiled when John gave him a quizzical look.

You: “Thanks,” John said, able to move a little faster now. A clock was ticking in his head and he knew they didn’t have much time left. They made it out of the building, stepping around the bodies still on the ground, and out to the street.

Stranger: They hurried out to one of the main roads that ran close by and waved down a taxi, Sherlock helped John and Mary in before climbing in himself, Rene following behind them. Once John told the cabbie the address to the hotel, Sherlock was able to lean back and release a breath he wasn’t aware he was holding.

You: “Thank you,” Mary muttered, slouching in the seat and trying not to touch the bruises under her clothes. “Did Mycroft send you?”

Stranger: “Yes,” Sherlock nodded, turning to Mary and John. “I was told to come get the files from you, but I have retrieved them already from your flat.”

You: “Good,” Mary said, her eyes closing. She leaned over as she fell asleep, her head falling onto John’s shoulder. The rideback was silent in deference to the poor woman and John wondered where they were going next.

Stranger: Sherlock watched out the window as they rode back to the hotel. In a way, he was happy that everything was done and he could return to London; but if Mycroft hadn’t “revived” him yet, he knew he had to stay away from John. If not, then they had to lie like they had before, and Sherlock was just tired of lying.

You: The cab stopped outside the hotel and John gently shook Mary awake while Rene paid again. Sherlock helped John walk Mary into the hotel, bypassing the front desk and heading straight for the elevators. They didn’t really need anyone asking questions right now. “When we get into the room, I’d like to look you over,” John told Mary. “You don’t have to worry; I was a doctor.”

Stranger: Mary nodded slowly as they entered the room. “After, do you mind if I sleep for a while? I didn’t get much good rest tied to that chair and constantly abused,” she muttered, giving John a weak smile.

You:“Of course,” John replied, nodding. “You can take the bed.” He helped Mary to the bed and then waited until she fell asleep. It didn’t take long and John settled down on the couch to clean his gun.

Stranger: Sherlock settled down next to John with his own gun and placed it on the table. “Mind if I watch?” he asked, motioning to the gun in John’s lap. “It’s a trick I never learned.”

You: “You probably should if you’re going to be shooting my gun again,” John chuckled and slowed down his movements so that Sherlock could see everything he did.

Stranger: “Is that so?” Sherlock asked, giving John a devious glare. “You going to hold me to that?”

You: “If you shoot it, you clean it,” John replied, grinning. “Though Mrs. Hudson may take it out of your hide if you shoot her walls again.”

Stranger: “Or I can shoot it and leave it for you to clean,” Sherlock smirked. “Besides, not my gun to lose.”

You: John glared at Sherlock, his hands still steadily dismantling the gun. When he was done, he cleaned the pieces and explained as he went.

Stranger: Sherlock just smirked when John glared at him. He knew the man knew he was joking around, although it would be something he would do - he just wouldn’t have meant to do it.

You: Cleaning his gun didn’t take long and John was finished long before Mary woke up. Rene left to get food for all of them and the smell was what woke Mary up. “What is that?” she asked groggily, sitting up stiffly on the bed.

Stranger: “Lunch,” John said, sitting on the edge of the bed. “I’d like to look you over before we eat, if you don’t mind, since I didn’t before you fell asleep. I just want to make sure nothing is too bad, make sure you don’t have to go to the hospital.”

You: “Sure,” Mary said, getting to her feet. It was easier to walk but John still looped her arm over his shoulder to help her walk. “Can we go into the bathroom? I’d prefer some privacy for this.”

Stranger: “Of course,” John nodded, starting to turn towards the bathroom. “Can you explain what hurts most?”

You: “They spent a lot of time hitting me in the stomach and back,” Mary explained, a grimace crossing her face as they walked. They made it into the bathroom and the door closed, John settling Mary on the counter.

Stranger: “Alright, well, if you don’t mind, I’d like to check that area out first,” John muttered, stepping up next to Mary. “If you could remove your shirt.”

You: Mary froze for several seconds, her eyes haunted as she stared at John. She was eternally thankful when he just stood there with a patient expression on his face. Finally, she slipped her shirt off slowly, flinching as the bruises twinged.

Stranger: John offered her a reassuring smile as he stepped up to get a closer look as the bruises and small cuts that painted her skin. “They luckily don’t look too bad,” he muttered, running his fingers over one of them. “Did that hurt much?”

You: “Not too bad,” Mary said, hoping the bruises hid the blush that broke out over her skin. “You have gentle hands. Why did you say “was” earlier?” She hissed when John’s fingers skimmed over a particularly deep bruise, her body arching away from him.

Stranger: John let out a soft chuckle at the question, but quickly pulled his hand back at her hiss. “When do you mean?” he asked, sending her an apologetic smile.

You: “When you said you were a doctor,” Mary replied, smiling a little back. He was very cute and it had been a long time since anyone had been kind to her. She tried not to flinch as John resumed the examination and prodded at some of the cuts on her back.

Stranger: “I don’t practice it anymore,” he explained. “Ever since Sherlock faked his death, I didn’t have much desire to practice anything, except depression.”

You: “I’m sorry,” Mary said sincerely, placing one hand on his shoulder and smiling wider as he looked at her. “Maybe you need to get out a little more. You seem happy after this morning.”

Stranger: “Well, yes. Everything went smoothly and no one got hurt in the process. Now you can start to heal, why wouldn’t I seem happy?” John said, smiling up at her as well.

You: “You have a very reassuring smile,” Mary murmured, stroking down John’s arm. “I know I said it before but thank you for coming to rescue me.”

Stranger: “It was no problem,” John nodded, helping Mary down from the counter. “Is there anywhere else that’s hurt that I should look at?”

You: “My legs,” Mary told him, leaning more on him that she absolutely needed to. She let her hand slide up and down John’s arm again as she met his eyes.

Stranger: “Alright, if I may?” he asked, motioning to her jeans.

You: “Go ahead,” Mary said, undoing the button and zipper herself. She stepped from foot to foot as John helped her out of them and she eased back up onto the counter so that John could see better. And did her best to ignore the fluttering in her belly as John’s eyes slid over her.

Stranger: Mary had a particularly deep cut running down her thigh and John leaned in slightly closer to examine it. He ran a finger along the edge of it, noting how she flinched. “How bad is it?”

You: “It doesn’t hurt horribly, which worries me,” Mary said, a thread of fear in her voice. “And I haven’t been able to look at it since they cut me. I was afraid it was going to get infected.”

Stranger: “Let me get a better look at it,” John muttered, getting down on his knees in front of her. “Can you spread your legs a little? I need the light.”

You: Mary moved her legs to the side, trying not to touch John’s shoulders as he leaned in to look at the cut. She had a sudden urge to lean down and kiss him which she fought off for the moment. She could always choose to try later; John was an interesting man.

Stranger: John looked over the cut with trained eyes, carefully running his hands along it to make sure it wasn’t infected. “Let me put something on it to numb the pain and clean it,” he muttered, standing to get a washcloth. “I’ll clean it off first, though, just in case.”

You: Mary nodded, watching as John moved around the bathroom with sure movements. He brought those same movements to cleaning the cut, swiping over it with gentle hands. Once it was clean, John dabbed some ointment on it and Mary felt a cooling sensation cover the cut.

Stranger: “Better?” John asked, standing and moving next to Mary to clean his hands.

You: “It is, thank you,” Mary replied, getting carefully off the counter and standing next to John. She was rather surprised that the guards hadn’t done any more harm to her but thankful. When John turned, she didn’t give herself any time to think, just leaned up and kissed him.

Stranger: John was slightly taken back by the sudden kiss. For a moment, he stood there in complete shock, unsure of really what to do. The next, he heard the bathroom door slam open and a deep voice break through the hazy-shock.

You: “Looks like you’re through,” Sherlock said coldly, glaring at both John and Mary. “I’ve informed Mycroft that we rescued you and he would like to speak with you when you are ready.” Without waiting for a reply, he turned smartly on his heel and stalked out of the room.

Stranger: John sighed heavily and quickly followed after Sherlock, calling after him. “Wait, Sherlock,” he said, grabbing his wrist before the detective could get any farther. “It’s not what you think, Sherlock.”

You: “Really, John?” Sherlock drawled, his tone supercilious and his expression shuttered. “I think I just saw you and Mary kissing in the bathroom. Tell me, was I incorrect in that?”

Stranger: “She was kissing me, Sherlock. If you noticed, I wasn’t kissing back,” John said slowly, looking Sherlock dead in the eye. “I was only looking her over.”

You: “You also didn’t push her away,” Sherlock pointed out, shaking his wrist free of John’s hold. “Go take care of your patient, doctor. I have some things to do before I head back to London.” Turning away, Sherlock ignored John’s cries and continued to the elevator.

Stranger: “Sherlock, please!” John begged, following the man to the elevator. He didn’t get in, but instead watched as the door slid closed in his face. “Please...”

You: John shook his head and decided standing around in the hallway was not going to accomplish anything. He headed back to the room and made sure that Mary needed nothing else for her wounds. Then he sat down and started dismantling his gun yet again and putting it back together.

Stranger: Sherlock went down to the small bar that the hotel had attached to it’s restaurant. He sat down at the counter, looking up at the sports event that played on the television. Something about tennis... He turned his attention to the bartender, a younger man with messy brown hair and bright silver eyes. “What can I get you?” he asked, smiling at Sherlock.

You: “Tequila,” Sherlock replied shortly, deciding to drink something he normally wouldn’t. He resolutely ignored the television and watched the man pour the shot. When it was passed over to him, Sherlock gulped it down and passed the glass back for another.

Stranger: The bartender poured his at least five more rounds before Sherlock started to slow down a little. A man sat a little ways down from him, hunched over something that looked to be a smart phone. It wasn’t until the man spoke that Sherlock paid him much more attention. “Didn’t think I’d see you again, Sherlock.” He turned at his name and recognized the man at once as Jack.

You: “Hello, Jack,” Sherlock said, his words slurred. “What brings you to this hotel?”

Stranger: “My supervisor needed me here to watch over the drug dealings,” Jack said, moving to the stool that was on Sherlock’s right. “And yourself?”

You: “Rescuing a wayward operative and helping a man escape a gang,” Sherlock said, keeping it vague. He didn’t know how much Jack knew and didn’t want to ruin any plans Mycroft might have. At least right now.

Stranger: “And how is the collecting of the files going?” Jack asked, smiling a little. He was wondering if he’d ever see this man again, and now that he was there, right in front of him, perfectly drunk, he was going to flirt at least a little.

You: “It’s done,” Sherlock replied, knocking back another shot of tequila. He pushed the glass back towards the bartender but just stared at the liquid in the glass. “I can go home.” He grimaced at the bar, rolling his eyes.

Stranger: “You don’t seem too happy about that, love,” Jack muttered, frowning. “Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?” He absently started to trace random patterns on the back of Sherlock’s hand, keeping his eyes trained on the detective.

You: “Long story,” Sherlock demurred, playing with the glass instead of drinking the shot. “Let’s just say it’s something drink-worthy.” He picked up the glass and drank it slower than the previous shots but still emptied it and asked for another.

Stranger: "Is it anything I can personally fix?" Jack asked, turning so his back was against the counter, running his hand up and down Sherlock's arm. "Anything to... Ease the pain?"

You: Sherlock watched Jack's hand, the skin blurry through the alcohol haze he'd insistently put himself into. With his mind only partially at its normal high workings, he considered what Jack was offering. It would be an escape, another way to dull the pain he felt at seeing John kissing Mary. But, really, that's what made him come down here in the first place. Doing the same thing to John would be rather hypocritical of him. "No," Sherlock replied, regret in his voice. He had a feeling Jack would be conscientious and attentive at whatever he put his mind to. "But thank you."

Stranger: "Why not, love?" he asked, signaling for the next few shots to be on him. "We could go up to my room and have a bit of fun. Relax."

You: "That's why I'm down here to begin with," Sherlock admitted, his most recent shot loosening his tongue. "I saw him kissing the operative we rescued. I had to walk away. It... wasn't something I could stay and talk out."

Stranger: "Wait, saw who?" Jack asked, raising an eyebrow at Sherlock. "Please, love, explain."

You: Sherlock sighed and drank the next shot the bartender poured. His lips twisted in a wry smile as he contemplated his next words. Seems he was doing a lot of things he normally wouldn't today. "Then I guess it should start with an apology," he admitted. "I saw the man I love kissing the operative we rescued. And when... we were in your flat, I was still dead to him. He knew me as Dean but I was worried that he wouldn't accept me back when he knew the truth."

Stranger: "So... You used me?" Jack growled, pulling his hand away. He gave Sherlock a glare, staring at the man and waited for him to answer his question.

You: Sherlock grimaced and shrugged apologetically. "Yes and no," he admitted, meeting Jack's eyes. "I was attracted to you. Still am, if I'm being honest. But a lot has happened in the month and a half or so since we've seen each other. Again, I'm sorry."

Stranger: "So we can't even finished what we started?" Jack asked slowly, signaling for a drink himself. "We did promise a rain check to each other."

You: "Yes, I know," Sherlock said, taking his shot glass and turning it upside down on the bar. He watched as a few golden brown drops ran down to pool on the wood. "But I don't think I should. That was before I told John that I was really alive."

Stranger: Jack gave Sherlock an icy glare before turning forward and sighing. "Should have known," he muttered, taking another shot and downing it quickly. "Always someone else."

You: Sherlock looked over at Jack and then quickly back down to his glass. This was turning out worse and worse, though he had truly forgotten about Jack. The only thing that could possibly make this worse... and there they are. John's footsteps as the determined soldier found him.

Stranger: "Sherlock," John said as he approached the detective, who was pointedly staring down at his shot glass and not at him. He took in the man next to Sherlock, an annoyed look on the man's face. He decided he'd deal with that later and turned back to Sherlock. "Will you just hear me out?!"

You: Sherlock sighed and shook his head, turning the glass around in circles on the bar. He could almost feel Jack bristling next to him and snuck a glance to see the man looking curiously at John. "This is John?" he asked, looking at Sherlock again.

Stranger: "Yes," Sherlock said, hoping that nothing bad would happen while both of these men were in the same room. He didn't want to deal with an angry Jack, or worse, a pissed off, jealous John. If John got even the slightest hint of something going on between himself and Jack... God...

You: "Sorry, do I know you?" John asked, momentarily diverted from Sherlock. His words were polite but there was a cold, steel edge underneath that Sherlock could hear clearly, even with all the alcohol fogging his mind.

Stranger: "No, sorry," Jack said smoothly. "Sherlock here was just talking about you. I guess you're the reason we can't simply pick up where we left off, is that right, Sherlock?"

You: "Left off?" John repeated, the veneer of politeness disappearing completely as cold overtook his voice. "Where did you gentlemen "leave off"?"

Stranger: "Please, John," Sherlock said, standing and wobbling, being forced to sit back down in his chair. "It was a stupid mistake... way before you knew I was alive. Please...."

You: John glared at Sherlock, several pieces coming together in his mind. And he didn't much like the puzzle they presented. "What are we doing here, Sherlock?" John asked, his voice tight with the urge not to break.

Stranger: "I came here to... get a drink. John, I really didn't know Jack would be here... Seeing you with Mary, kissing... honestly, I didn't like it," Sherlock said, staring up at John. Jack cut in, "What did you mean, Sherlock, when you said it was a stupid mistake?" His voice was cold and threatening, his eyes narrowing at the back of Sherlock's head and then at John.

You: "I meant that I shouldn't have allowed myself to kiss you," Sherlock said bluntly, flicking a glance at John. "If circumstances were different, maybe something might have happened. But I love John and I'm sorry for what happened."

Stranger: Jack got up without another word, half storming away to his room. John turned back to Sherlock after watching Jack make his retreat. "I love you, too, Sherlock," John muttered, sitting on the other side of Sherlock then where Jack had once been occupying. "Can we talk about this?"

You: “Running doesn’t help, does it?” Sherlock asked wryly, turning to John and focussing on his face. “I don’t do... emotions very well. What exactly happened with you and Mary?”

Stranger: “I know you don’t,” John said, his hand itching to reach out and tuck that stray hair out of Sherlock’s face and behind his ear. “I was checking her over; cuts on her stomach, thighs, and chest. Once I cleaned the bad ones and was finishing up, she leaned up and kissed me. I was shocked, unsure of what was really happening or what I should do. Then you came in and... well... yeah,” John finished lamely, bothering his lower lip.

You: Sherlock blinked at John slowly, trying to pick his next words carefully. “You didn’t want her?” he asked, the alcohol making him forget to keep the plaintive note out of his voice. “I was worried... even after everything you’d choose to have another girlfriend.”

Stranger: “No, Sherlock,” John soothed, finally acting on his urge and reaching up to brush the hair behind Sherlock’s ear, after, going down to cup Sherlock’s jaw. “I spent three years waiting and praying for you to come back, just so I could tell you how I feel. I’m not throwing that all away now.”

You: Tilting his head into John’s hand, Sherlock let his eyes close and just breathe for several moments. He had overreacted, adrenaline still running through his veins after the rescue. And seeing someone else kissing John had hurt like nothing he’d ever experienced before. “That’s... good,” he finally stammered, opening his eyes to meet John’s dark blue ones.

Stranger: “So do you forgive me?” John asked, running his thumb over one of Sherlock’s sharp cheekbones.

You: “Yes,” Sherlock replied, a small smile growing on his face. “You forgive me for running?” He rested one hand on John’s leg, not wanting to push too fast.

Stranger: “Of course, love,” John muttered, smiling. “I’d never be mad at you. I know I hurt you and I know you don’t know how to deal with that kind of emotion.”

You: Sherlock leaned forward and pressed his lips to John’s lightly, keeping it gentle and chaste. He tightened the hand on John’s knee, wanting to know he was still there.

Stranger: “Can we go back to the room, love?” John asked after a few minutes of gentle, light kissing. “I’d love to just curl up on the couch and watch a movie if we could? I want to just relax tonight.”

You: “I think that’s all I’ll be good for,” Sherlock said ruefully, struggling to his feet. He was proud when he only wavered a little bit. “I did have quite a bit of tequila. Perhaps we should get another room.”

Stranger: “Is that the only reason you want to get another room?” John asked, standing in front of Sherlock and smiling up at him knowingly. “Or are there other reasons?”

You: “For now, I would rather Mary slept in a different room,” Sherlock admitted, allowing a spark of jealousy into his eyes. “Then later, who knows?” He tried to wink flirtatiously but failed miserably as his balance chose to desert him at that exact moment.

Stranger: John caught Sherlock before he could fall, lifting one of his arms around his own shoulder, wrapping an arm around Sherlock’s waist. “Come on, love,” John said gently, trying not to laugh. “We’ll go up to the room and I’ll come back down here and get another room for us.”

You: Sherlock nodded and staggered with John back to the elevator after paying the bartender and giving him a hefty tip. The man certainly deserved it after seeing the drama unfold in front of him. Once in the elevator, he allowed his weight to rest against the wall and his head to settle on John’s shoulder.

Stranger: “How do you feel?” John asked, running his fingers through the locks on Sherlock’s head. “You’re going to have a horrible hangover tomorrow, love.”

You: “Kinda blurry right now,” Sherlock admitted, a sound very similar to a purr coming from his throat as John ran his fingers through his hair. “And I wasn’t thinking about the hangover when I was drinking.”

Stranger: “I’ll be here to help,” John muttered, chuckling lightly at the purr. “I’ll stay with you until your head stops pounding, even if all you want to do is sleep.”

You: The elevator dinged before Sherlock could reply and they walked slowly back to the room. “I’m really sorry, John,” Sherlock whispered before they opened the door. “For Jack. I’m sorry.”

Stranger: “And I’m sorry for Mary,” John whispered back. “But don’t worry about it. I still love you.”

You: “I love you, too,” Sherlock replied before his stomach rumbled and his hand flew to his mouth. They managed to get inside and Sherlock got to the bathroom before his much-abused stomach rejected a lot of the tequila he’d drunk.

Stranger: John bent down next to Sherlock, a hand on his lover’s back. He rubbed soothing circles into the skin, once in a while allowing his hand to dip below the t-shirt. “You’re alright,” John whispered as Sherlock got up some more of his stomach. “I’m here, love.”

You: Sherlock groaned and wiped his mouth before standing and rinsing with cool water. He spat a few times then drank about a cup of water. “I think I should lie down,” Sherlock admitted, resting his head against John’s chest and wrapping his arms around him.

Stranger: “Okay, come on, love,” John said, gently leading the other man to the couch, Mary asleep on the bed. He pressed himself against the back of the couch and pulled Sherlock down to lay next to him, wrapping his arms tightly around the man. He’d worry about the other room after.

You: Sherlock settled against John thankfully, his head on John’s shoulder. He sighed and felt sleep creeping up on him. “What about Rene?” he murmured, remembering that there were four here now.

Stranger: “I’m... sure he’s fine,” John smiled, hearing the sucking sounds from the bedroom. He could only chuckle, hearing the volume of the make-out session. “I think he found a place to lie down.”

You: Nodding, Sherlock closed his eyes and let sleep claim him. Whatever else happened, he had John right now and that’s all that mattered.

Stranger: “Night, love,” John whispered, kissing the top of Sherlock’s head and watching as Sherlock’s breathing evened out. John ran his hand gently through the curls one last time before allowing his own eyes to close, smiling that he got his lover back in his arms.

\----------------------End Chapter 15------------------------


	16. Chapter 16

You: The next morning, Sherlock woke with a pounding head and sunlight spearing into his eyes. He groaned wearily and rolled off the couch to take refuge in the bathroom. While he walked, it didn't escape his notice that Mary and Rene were now sharing a bed. He wondered vaguely if it was some sort of affirmation of freedom for Mary.

Stranger: John's eyes slowly blinked open and he quickly realized he was alone. Was Sherlock vomiting again? Getting up quickly, John ran to the bathroom and threw the door open.

You: "Light!" Sherlock hissed, one hand covering his face as he sat on the edge of the bathtub. He held a glass of water in the other hand, about half-empty, mute testament to him trying to deal with his hangover.

Stranger: "Oh, sorry, love," John muttered, quickly stepping inside and closing the door. He moved carefully to sit on the edge of the tub next to Sherlock. "How bad is your headache?" he asked when he finally got seated on the tub.

You: "Fairly bad," Sherlock admitted, sipping carefully at his water. "Though it's my own fault. I knew exactly what was going to happen if I kept drinking." He sighed as another spike of pain went through his temples causing a brief flare of light in his eyes.

Stranger: "Is there anything I can get you?" John asked slowly, placing his hand on Sherlock's back and rubbing soft circles through the shirt. "Coffee or tea or something?"

You: "If I could get more water?" Sherlock asked, finishing off the water and putting his hand on John's knee where he could feel the warmth of the other man. "I see Mary found someone else to cling to."

Stranger: “Yes, they seem to be taking a liking to each other,” John said, taking the glass, blindly, from Sherlock and standing. He felt his way over to the sink and used his phone light to fill the glass. “As least you don’t have to worry any more, right?” He handed Sherlock the glass and pecked him on the cheek, taking his seat again.

You: “No and I’m glad of it,” Sherlock replied, giving John a small smile. He drank more of the water, leaning over slightly to press his shoulder against John’s. “I don’t like jealousy.”

Stranger: “Nor do I, I don’t think anyone does,” John said, running his hand back over Sherlock’s t-shirt. “I hope I never have to worry about losing you.”

You: Sherlock shook his head then realized John couldn’t see him. “No, you don’t,” he told the other man, his free hand wrapping around John’s waist. “What should we do now? I’m sure Mycroft has myriad plans for Mary and for me.”

Stranger: “What do you mean, plans?” John asked, closing his eyes and leaning his head on Sherlock’s shoulder. “What kind of plans?”

You: “He’ll probably want me to escort Mary to wherever she’s going,” Sherlock mused. “I doubt even he’d put her back on duty so quickly. And I must deal with Rene. He deserves his freedom from Desmond.”

Stranger: “Then I’ll help,” John said, turning his head slightly to peck at Sherlock’s neck. “You know I’ll follow you wherever you go. I’m not going to let you leave me behind again, Sherlock.”

You: Sherlock didn’t reply, just pressed kisses to John’s forehead and cheek. He’d desperately missed just talking things out with the other man and had often resorted to talking to himself while alone. “We should try to avoid mentioning you’re here,” he commented.

Stranger: “I know,” John muttered, nibbling on the pulse just under Sherlock’s skin. “I know you’re not supposed to be alive to me yet. I’ll keep quiet from Mycroft and Lestrade.”

You: Sherlock mumbled something in reply, lost in the sensations John was causing. They sat like that for several minutes until a light knock on the door told both men someone else was up. “Hey, you guys in there? I need to get in,” Rene’s voice came through the door.

Stranger: “We’ll be right out,” John said, trying not to call out to save Sherlock from having his head abuse him. “Come on, love. Let’s go sit in the living room. I’ll turn the lights off and draw the blinds, I’m sure the others will understand.” John stood and took Sherlock’s hand in his. They went to the door and John opened it slowly, nodding at Rene. “Sorry, Sherlock’s hangover had him sitting in the dark for a while. We’re going to turn the lights out in the living room and draw the blinds to dim the living room, if you don’t mind working in semi-darkness?”

You: “I don’t, no,” Rene said quietly, shaking his head. “I’ve got some work to do today anyway. I got a text from Desmond calling everyone in since he’s discovered Mary was taken.” He held up his phone to John, showing the angry wording from the drug lord.

Stranger: “Alright, be careful, and call me if you need help in any way,” John muttered back. “You have my number right?”

You: “Yes, Sherlock gave it to me,” Rene said, tilting his head and studying John. “You know, I see why he loves you. You two work and fit together so well. Like two sides of the same coin.”

Stranger: “I like to think so,” John smiled, watching as Sherlock released his hand and went to start turning the lights off in the living room, drawing the blinds and surrounding himself in darkness. “He’s a great man, I really do love him and I’m very lucky.”

You: Once the room was suitably darkened, John went back and took Sherlock’s hand again. They walked to the couch and settled down onto it, Sherlock leaning back against John’s side. Mary was still asleep and they all kept as quiet as possible out of deference to her.

Stranger: John ran his fingers through Sherlock’s hair repeatedly as the other man closed his eyes and rested his head against John’s shoulder. His other arm went to curl around Sherlock’s waist, holding him close to his body.

You: Sherlock dozed in John’s arms, the headache gradually fading away. He was able to think again, make plans, and Sherlock found that he didn’t want to go back to London and pretend that he was still dead to John. “John?” he asked quietly. “What if you were to let Dean move into the flat? We could get around Mycroft and still be together.”

Stranger: “I would say yes in a heartbeat if it meant you could stay with me,” John smiled down at Sherlock’s head. “Do you think Mycroft would let that happen?”

You: “I think the only way he could stop it would be to tell you who I really was,” Sherlock replied, a dark satisfaction threading his voice. “And that would mess up his precious timetable.”

Stranger: “Alright then, Dean, will you move in with me?” John asked, kissing Sherlock’s temple lightly.

You: “Yes,” Sherlock replied, a grin crossing his face. “I think I’d like that very much.”

Stranger: John wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s waist and squeezed him just a bit tighter. “Good,” he whispered, burying his face in Sherlock’s curls and just breathing him in. “Good.”

You: Mary started stirring then, stretching and yawning on the bed. She sat up and looked around the darkened room, squinting as she saw Sherlock and John on the couch. “You know, if I had known you were spoken for, John, I wouldn’t have kissed you,” she apologized.

Stranger: “It’s fine, Mary,” John said, unsure of really what else to say. “I know you didn’t know. But I think you own Sherlock more of an apology.”

You: “You’re right,” Mary said, nodding. She turned to Sherlock, contrition in her face. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “It won’t happen again. You don’t have to worry about me.”

Stranger: “I better not,” Sherlock growled, curling more into John’s side. He turned his face from Mary then, and closed his eyes, just wanting to feel John around him.

You: Rene came out of the bathroom then, dressed. He moved around the room for a few seconds, collecting what he needed then gave Mary a kiss. “I’ll see you all later tonight,” he said, opening the door. “I’ll let you know what Desmond’s plans are.”

Stranger: “Remember, text me if you need me,” John said, turning slightly to look at Rene.

You: “Of course,” Rene nodded then closed the door behind him. Mary got up and skirted around the couch, leaving John and Sherlock alone while she used the bathroom herself. Which, of course, is when the phone rang with Mycroft’s number on the ID.

Stranger: Sherlock sighed, his head protesting loudly against the ringing phone. Retrieving the phone from the table across from the couch, he flipped it open and grumbled a, “Hello?”

You: “Sherlock,” Mycroft greeted him, voice a little cold. “I’ve been waiting for the call from my agent. Is she there?”

Stranger: “Yeah, she’s here,” Sherlock growled, protesting against the way Mycroft’s voice was just too damn loud over the phone. “Bathroom.”

You: “I would like to speak with her as soon as she’s available,” Mycroft said. Then his voice softened a bit. “How have you been holding up?”

Stranger: “Let’s see, hungover, really don’t want to be talking to you... fine,” Sherlock growled, moving closer into John’s side. “Just wanna go home.”

You: “That should be accomplished soon,” Mycroft replied, ignoring the second half of Sherlock’s sentence. “The recovery of your reputation is going rather well. You should be back to the hero you were in about a month or so.”

Stranger: “That’s too long,” Sherlock growled. “Come on, I’m done with your stupid mission, just let me go back to John...”

You: “You can’t yet, Sherlock, you know that,” Mycroft chided him, rolling his eyes. “If you were to suddenly reappear now, all the work I’m doing will go to waste. You need to wait until you are redeemed in the public’s eyes. I’m sure John can wait a little longer. He’ll have his book to occupy his time.”

Stranger: “Just let me go home to him, Mycroft. I’ll stay out of the public eye, I’ll stay as Dean to the public, I just want John to know it’s me...” Sherlock muttered, ignoring the obvious eye roll in Mycroft’s words.

You: “No and no and no,” Mycroft retorted, sighing heavily. “I know this is difficult on you and I know how much you want to get back to John. But think about him for a moment. What if you and John continue a relationship with you as Dean and then all of a sudden you’re Sherlock again? How do you think he’s going to handle it?”

Stranger: “Probably gonna punch me,” Sherlock said, sending John a glare and the doctor smiling at him sheepishly. “Whatever, but you better hurry up, Mycroft.”

You: “I am going as quickly as possible, little brother,” Mycroft replied, the sound of paper shuffling coming over the line. “I’ve barely had time to rest with all the work going into this and my other obligations. Speaking of, I don’t have too much longer. Is Mary available yet?”

Stranger: Sherlock looked up as the bathroom door opened and nodded Mary over. “Yeah, here,” he muttered before passing over the phone. Mary took it and pressed it to her ear. “Hello?”

You: “Hello, Mary,” Mycroft greeted her smoothly, most of the irritation gone from his voice. “I’m glad to hear you’re safe.”

Stranger: “Yes, thankfully,” she answered, leaning against the back of the couch. “These guys really saved me.”

You: “I’m glad to know that Rene is working out as intended,” Mycroft grumbled, a bit annoyed that Sherlock had gotten creative with his orders. “I’m having you reassigned back to London for the time being. You will be required to go through mandatory counseling after your experiences.”

Stranger: “Alright,” Mary nodded. “I’m excited to return home. Will I be forced to stay away from my flat as well?”

You: “Only as long as it takes for your examination and tests,” Mycroft reassured her. “The doctors here want to check you over. I imagine they weren’t very kind to you while you were captured and Sherlock has only a basic knowledge of first aid.”

Stranger: “Actually-” Mary started before Sherlock covered her mouth. His head pounded hard after the quick movement, but Mary couldn’t tell Mycroft about John. “He can’t know John’s here,” he growled quietly into her other ear before letting go when she nodded. “Sherlock took me to a doctor already,” she finished, clearing her throat.

You: “Very well, but you will still be checked over here,” Mycroft said, wondering what that pause was all about. He had heard a slight mumble but couldn’t make out any words. “Is there anything else I need to know?”

Stranger: “No, Sherlock is taking very good care of me after my experience. Everything is fine otherwise. Shall I check in when we all return to London?” She asked, as another phone beeped behind her.

You: “Yes, I have Anthea working on getting a flight for all of you and a passport for Rene,” Mycroft told her. “I will call with the details. Goodbye.”

Stranger: “Goodbye,” Mary said and handed the phone back to Sherlock. “Sorry, I didn’t know he couldn’t know about John.”

You: “It’s all right,” Sherlock said shortly, easing up from John’s arms. His headache had finally eased enough to be ignored. “What did he say?”

Stranger: “He said he’d get us tickets to come home and a passport for Rene and call back with details,” she said, pushing herself away from the couch and moving to go to the kitchen. “Are you guys hungry?”

You: “I am,” John said when Sherlock groaned and shook his head. “I think we can get room service this time. Maybe charge it to Mycroft?” He looked at Sherlock as he said it, a twinkle of laughter in his eyes.

Stranger: “We’ve been charging it to Mycroft ever since we got here,” Sherlock smiled at John, nodding towards his wallet. “Got his card. Only thing I’ve bought so far was that gun of yours.”

You: “Then I think lunch is definitely on him,” John laughed, getting up to get the card out of Sherlock’s wallet. “What would everyone like?”

Stranger: “Just get me whatever you think I’ll like,” Sherlock said waving it off. “I really don’t care.”

You: John nodded, writing down what Mary wanted before calling room service. He ordered with a grin, tickled to be using Mycroft’s card for all of this. It was a petty sort of revenge, but he’d take it.

Stranger: When John hung up the phone, Sherlock stood slowly, trying to get the room to stop spinning. He went over to the kitchen, getting himself another glass of water and drank it slowly, leaning over the sink.

You: “I can find some aspirin for you,” John said, seeing how Sherlock still wavered on his feet. He dug through his bag, finding the small bottle he’d put in the bottom of it. He shook two pills out and handed them to Sherlock.

Stranger: “Thanks,” Sherlock muttered, downing them and following them with some water. “I should have never had so much to drink...”

You: “No, you probably shouldn’t have,” John chuckled, rubbing a hand down Sherlock’s back. “Though, I have to admit, it was different seeing you drunk. I’ve seen you drugged but never drunk.”

Stranger: “You could have easily had some fun,” Sherlock smirked, sending John a knowing smile. “I wish you did.”

You: John laughed and hugged Sherlock. “I could have but you were almost falling down,” John said. “It wouldn’t have been as fun for me. But we’ve got some time now, don’t we?”

Stranger: “Go get a new room for us and we can,” Sherlock smiled, wrapping his arms around John’s waist.

You: “Sorry to interrupt, gentlemen, but we may not need a new room,” Mary said, standing outside the bathroom. “Mycroft mentioned trying to get us a flight out of here.”

Stranger: “Do you want to listen to us while we go through personal enjoyment?” Sherlock smiled, turning to Mary.

You: “Not really, no,” Mary said, shaking her head. “I just overheard you two and thought I’d let you know that Mycroft wants us out of here as soon as possible before you made more plans.”

Stranger: “We know, but we just want to spend some time alone as well,” John said, taking Sherlock’s hand and pulling out of his grip. “We really haven’t had time alone and we haven’t seen each other in three years.”

You: “I could always head downstairs with my lunch,” Mary replied, shrugging. “We may very well be leaving today so you may want to save your money instead of getting another room.” Their food was delivered at that moment, a knock on the door alerting them. Mary got it, giving the guy a nice tip on Mycroft’s card.

Stranger: “If you wouldn’t mind,” John smiled, placing his and Sherlock’s lunch in the fridge in the room. “That would save us some money. Thank you.”

You: Mary nodded and carried her lunch out, taking a few of the pills from John’s bottle of aspirin. She closed the door and decided to stay on this floor rather than going downstairs. She didn’t know of all Desmond’s group and she didn’t want to get kidnapped again.

Stranger: Sherlock instantly took John’s chin and tilted it up with both hands. He pressed his lips against John’s and backed him into the counter, grinding his hips against John’s. He slipped his tongue out and brushed against John’s lips before teasingly pulling back.

You: “You sure your head can handle this?” John murmured, wrapping his arms around Sherlock’s waist and holding on tight. “Wouldn’t want you to keel over in pain.” He leaned up and nibbled at Sherlock’s lips, teasing.

Stranger: “I really couldn’t give a damn, John,” Sherlock growled, his headache just a background thought at the moment. All his focus was on John, and how good he felt pressed up against him.

You: John laughed and slid his hands underneath Sherlock’s shirt, splaying over the other man’s back. He left off teasing Sherlock’s lips to nip and suck at his jaw and then move down to his collarbone.

Stranger: Sherlock moaned quietly and dropped his head to his own shoulder to give John more room. He rolled his head down and nipped at John’s pulse, sucking gently on it.

You: John groaned and kissed Sherlock’s neck before lifting his head and meeting Sherlock’s eyes. “We should probably go somewhere more comfortable,” he suggested, unable to stop himself from kissing Sherlock again.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and took John’s hand, moving towards the bedroom. He fell on top of the bed and pulled John next to him, pulling his close and kissing him deeply, laying on his side.

You: John shifted so that he was lying on top of Sherlock, pressing the other man into the bed. “What do you want this time?” he asked, pressing kisses on Sherlock’s lips again.

Stranger: “You,” Sherlock growled, pulling John’s hips down harder into his. He kissed the man harder and slid his tongue into John’s mouth, pulling back as soon as John’s tongue touched his, teasing the other man.

You: John chased Sherlock’s tongue into his mouth, swiping over the roof of his mouth and tickling. He laughed when Sherlock grumbled then scraped his nails up Sherlock’s stomach. “You’ll always have me,” he murmured, the words coming out automatically.

Stranger: “Better,” Sherlock growled, grinding up on John’s hips. He sucked John’s bottom lip between his teeth and nibbled on it lightly. “Can’t stand not.”

You: John grinned and moved his hands down, teasing at the skin just above Sherlock’s waistband. He pressed his hips down against Sherlock’s, feeling as both of them hardened at the contact.

Stranger: Sherlock groaned as John pressed into him, feeling John’s member hardening. “I might need to help you there,” Sherlock smirked, nipping at John’s ear.

You: “Go for it,” John challenged, leaning down to suck at Sherlock’s neck. He slipped one hand underneath Sherlock’s waistband and stroked over his erection.

Stranger: Sherlock moaned loudly before grabbing John’s hips and flipping them, himself rolling on top of John. He quickly disposed of John’s pants and boxers sliding down on the bed and getting himself comfortable between John’s legs. He looked up at the doctor, watching for any sign to continue.

You: John just stared, a bit surprised at how quickly and efficiently Sherlock had stripped him. He got over the surprise, though, a slow smile growing on his face. “Well?” he drawled, arching an eyebrow at Sherlock. “That all you’re going to do?”

Stranger: Sherlock growled deep in his throat and turned his attention to John’s member. He flicked his tongue out and quickly swirled it around the head before leaning back and smirking at John. “Should I stop?”

You: “If you do, I might have to hurt you,” John groaned, his hips moving slightly towards Sherlock’s mouth. His voice was hoarse, raw, even after just a few seconds with Sherlock’s mouth wrapped around him. God, he could not wait for more.

Stranger: “Humm,” Sherlock smiled, leaning back and just sitting on the foot of the bed. “Let’s see.”

You: John growled and got his legs underneath him to lunge at Sherlock. He tackled the other man, twisting his body so they landed on the bed rather than the floor. Trapping Sherlock’s hands behind his back, John bit hard at the crook of his shoulder.

Stranger: “God,” Sherlock grunted, trying to pull his hands free of their trap. “J-John...” Sherlock struggled against the pin, trying to break free. “Nah!”

You: “You ready to play nice?” John whispered, breath ghosting over Sherlock’s skin. He licked over the bite, soothing the sting before pressing a hard kiss to Sherlock’s lips.

Stranger: “Yes,” Sherlock panted, his eyes closing. “Yes, please...”

You: John chuckled and let Sherlock’s hands go. He smoothed down Sherlock’s arms from shoulder to wrist then moved back up to repeat the gesture, just waiting to see what Sherlock would do next.

Stranger: “You need to be punished for that,” Sherlock smirked, flipping them quickly and taking John’s hands. He held them to his sides and went down between John’s legs. He nipped at John’s thigh and sucked on the skin.

You: “Oh... god,” John muttered, his back arching up. He pulled at Sherlock’s grip, wanting to tangle his fingers in the other man’s hair, but couldn’t move. Sherlock had his wrists in an iron grip and wasn’t letting go.

Stranger: “No moving,” Sherlock growled, sucking harder on the skin. He pulled back to see a raising bruise to the skin. He smiled and moved up to John’s member, teasing at the member with his tongue.

You: John nodded, easing back down onto the bed. He twisted his hands to lock onto Sherlock’s wrists and gripped tightly. Though he kept his head up, watching as Sherlock’s tongue swiped over his erection.

Stranger: Sherlock smiled when he saw John watching him, his cheeks flushed an adorable red. He dipped closer and quickly took John’s member between his lips.

You: “Sherlock,” John breathes, an awed look on his face. He wants desperately to thrust up into the heat of Sherlock’s mouth but keeps himself still, the muscles in his legs bunching with the effort. Just watching Sherlock is almost enough to make him come right then and there.

Stranger: “Mhhum?” Sherlock hummed, keeping John’s member only barely in his mouth. He sucked lightly on the member, licking over the hole in slow, agonizing motions.

You: John groaned when Sherlock hummed, his whole body feeling like it was vibrating. Keeping his head raised was too much now and he let it drop down to the bed. Once he did, the sensations seemed to intensify and John heard a tangle of words pouring from his mouth.

Stranger: Sherlock popped off and looked at John. “What did you say, love?” Sherlock asked, thinking he heard wrong. A part of him, though, hoped he didn’t.

You: John snapped his mouth closed, rapidly running through the words he hadn’t even been paying attention to. What did.... Oh. “I... ah,” John muttered, looking away from the quicksilver eyes that could always read him. “I want to spend the rest of my life with you. I’d... be lost without you. Was lost.”

Stranger: Sherlock stopped and stared at the doctor, his eyes wide. “Wh-What do you mean... b-by that?” Sherlock stuttered, his heart beating faster. Was he really asking...?

You: “You really don’t know?” John asked, feeling Sherlock’s pulse speed up underneath his fingers. “You can deduce everything.” He wanted to hide his face but his wrists were still tightly held by Sherlock’s hands. Teach him to let his mouth go, wouldn’t it.

Stranger: “Just t-tell me...” Sherlock muttered, shuttering. “I... can’t deduce this...”

You: John tightened his hands on Sherlock’s wrists again, dragging his eyes back to meet Sherlock’s. “I want to marry you,” he whispered, the words more breath than sound. “Will you marry me, Sherlock?”

Stranger: Sherlock froze and his grip tightened on John’s wrists before he let go. “I-I...” he muttered, unsure to go about saying what he wanted to say. “Y... Ye... s...”

You: John grinned, sitting up to pull Sherlock into a tight hug. “I love you, you madman,” John murmured, placing kisses on Sherlock’s temple and cheek.

Stranger: “I-I love you, too...” Sherlock whispered, his heart still racing. He was shaking as he wrapped his arms around his doctor. “Oh, God... yes!”

You: “Good,” John stated. He leaned back to capture Sherlock’s lips, kissing him gently. “Though we should probably wait until after Mycroft and Greg get married. Wouldn’t want to upstage them and they’ve been waiting a long time.”

Stranger: “Yes,” Sherlock muttered, unable to stop repeating the word. “Yes, yes, yes.”

You: John laughed and pulled Sherlock down next to him, ignoring for the moment what they had been doing. He threaded his fingers in Sherlock’s hair and rolled the curls around his fingers.

Stranger: “I love you, John,” Sherlock muttered. “Now I want to get home and give you your gifts even more.”

You: “Well, if Mycroft has his way, we’ll be back later tonight,” John murmured, tangling his legs with Sherlock’s and enjoying the feel of skin on skin. “I want you to stay with me when we get back.”

Stranger: “I won’t leave your side... I have to get you a ring,” Sherlock muttered, thinking. “I have to get you a ring...”

You: “Sherlock, calm down,” John admonished him, laughing again. “Just relax and enjoy being here right now. We have time, love.”

Stranger: “I’m sorry, but... You’re mine,” Sherlock smiled, hugging John closer and laughing lightly. “You’re mine, and I love you so much.”

You: “I love you and you’re mine now too,” John told him. He let his hands slip down to Sherlock’s hips, fingers caressing circles. “What do you say we celebrate?”

Stranger: “Turn over,” Sherlock whispered, nipping John’s earlobe and sucking on it gently.

You: John kissed Sherlock hard then rolled onto his stomach. He looked over his shoulder and waited, wondering what Sherlock was going to do.

Stranger: Sherlock climbed onto John’s back and quickly stripped of his own pants and boxers. He took his shirt off and worked John’s off as well. Slowly, he lined himself up and ran the head of his member over John’s entrance.

You: Arching his back, John groaned and reached for Sherlock’s wrists. “Wait,” he muttered, annoyance in his voice. “You need to use something for lube, Sherlock. And open me up.”

Stranger: “What?” Sherlock asked, pausing for a moment. “Um... t-then... suck on my fingers...” He said, putting his fingers to John’s lips like he did him. “Are you mad at me? I didn’t know....”

You: “Why would I be mad?” John asked, confused. “I just wanted to let you know.” He sucked Sherlock’s fingers into his mouth, laving his tongue up and down. Keeping eye contact with Sherlock, John let his tongue wrap around each finger individually, making sure to get each one completely wet.

Stranger: “You just sounded annoyed... I just want to make sure, love. You know I’ve never done this before...” He pulled his fingers from John’s mouth and pressed them to his entrance. “W-what now?”

You: “Start with one finger and go slow,” John explained, trying to relax his muscles. “Feel free to tease as well. The more relaxed and turned on I am, the easier it will be.” A thrum of adrenaline ran through him as he realized exactly what they were doing. Sherlock was going to be inside him, finally. It was something he’d never thought he get a chance to experience.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and circled the entrance slowly. He bit his lip as he pressed one finger just barely into the hole, pausing for a moment. He pushing in slowly to the first knuckle and watching, in half awe, as the skin ate his finger. He pushed in a little more before pausing again. “D-do I do something else..?”

You: John had to breathe for a few moments before he could answer, voice stolen completely by what he was feeling. “It’s not too difficult, love,” John finally panted. “Have you done any research at all into sex? You know how it generally works? Just stroke gently in and out for a bit until my muscles relax.”

Stranger: “I told you... this is my first time,” Sherlock blushed deeply. “S-so... like...” He pulled his finger out till it was just threatening to come all the way out before pushing back in, repeating the gesture over and over again.

You: “Yes, that’s it,” John moaned, his hips pumping back against Sherlock’s hand to bring him deeper. “Fuck, Sherlock, that’s it.” He could feel the muscles stretching, a light burn sparking with the pleasure.

Stranger: “Should I … add another,” Sherlock asked, his finger sliding easily in and out of John.

You: “Please,” John panted, forcing his hips to still. His erection was throbbing now, the friction as he moved driving him crazy along with Sherlock’s finger.

Stranger: Sherlock slid a second finger in, wasting no time at all to start pumping his fingers. He vaguely remembered John bending his fingers when he was stretching him, so he pushed his fingers as far as they would do and bent them, hitting a soft bit of flesh that made John scream out.

You: “God, yes, Sherlock, there,” John begged, arching his hips up and back. “Harder please, harder.” He was up on his knees now, erection bobbing against his thighs as he pumped into Sherlock’s hand.

Stranger: “God, John, can I... can I finally..?” Sherlock asked, kissing John’s back.

You: “Not just yet,” John replied. “You need... to stretch me a... a bit more.”

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and slipped another finger in and moaned at the tightness. He started moving them like he had been, it a little hard due to the fact he only had John suck on two of the three fingers. “Th-this doesn’t hurt, does it?”

You: “No, not right now,” John reassured him, hips moving again. He dropped his head and just let go. After several seconds, he couldn’t wait anymore. “Now, Sherlock.”

Stranger: “A-are you sure?” Sherlock asked, his fingers still feeling like they were being squeezed as he pulled out.

You: “Yes,” John replied, turning his head and meeting Sherlock’s eyes. “Please, fuck me, Sherlock.”

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and got up on his knees, gripping John’s hips. He pressed in slowly, moaning at the tightness and the slight dampness. “God, you feel so good, John.”

You: John just moaned, his voice stolen again. He held still as Sherlock slowly buried himself inside him. The burn was more intense but it wasn’t anything he couldn’t handle. Everything else felt too good to stop.

Stranger: Sherlock pushed all the way in and paused. He took a few deep breaths, his body folding over John’s and his lips brushing between John’s shoulder blades.

You: “God, Sherlock,” John breathed. “You feel so good. But please, move.”

Stranger: “R-right,” Sherlock muttered, slowly starting to pump his hips. He moaned as John clamped down on him, and he bit into the skin between John’s shoulder blades.

You: “Fuck,” John swore, thrusting back against Sherlock. He started slowly, moving his hips in a long, even arc.

Stranger: Sherlock kept nibbling at John’s shoulder blades, thrusting his hips slowly. “You feel... amazing,” Sherlock breathed, closing his eyes.

You: John nodded, breath heaving as he moved with Sherlock. He pumped faster, tilting his hips up so that he could take Sherlock in as deeply as possible. “I need you to touch me, please, Sherlock,” John whispered.

Stranger: Sherlock breathed deeply, his breath hitching in his throat, as he reached around to gently touch John’s member. He ran a hand over it and wrapped his fingers around the member, starting to pump in time with John’s movement and his own hips. “L-like that?”

You: “Yes,” John hissed, jerking at the contact. “Perfect, just like that.” Wordless moans tumbled from his lips as they moved, the sharp sound of skin smacking skin punctuating each thrust.

Stranger: “I love you,” Sherlocked breathed, kissing the back of John’s neck.

You: “I love you,” John murmured. “But you can stop treating me like I’m going to break.”

Stranger: “Oh?” Sherlock smiled, laughing. “Let’s see what will make you break then.” He picked up the pace, slamming into John harder than before.

You: John grunted with each thrust, bracing his hands on the headboard in front of him. This was what he wanted, what he’d craved since he’d found Sherlock was alive. His whole mind and body filled and surrounded by the other man. “That’s it... yes....” John muttered between cries. “God, Sherlock, harder, fuck me.”

Stranger: Sherlock slammed into John, pulling back, pausing and then slamming back in. He moaned each time, his hips going red and raw, as he saw John’s butt was as well. They would not be able to sit on a plane ride after this...

You: John writhed underneath Sherlock as he felt fire pooling in his belly. The combination of Sherlock inside him and his hand around him was driving him to orgasm quickly. “Sherlock, tighter with your hand,” John moaned. “So... so close.”

Stranger: Sherlock tightened his hand around John’s member and pumped harder. He moved harder and pumped his hips harder and faster. “M-me too...” he moaned back.

You: John felt his muscles tighten and then lock up as he orgasmed, the slick fluid coating Sherlock’s hand and making him slip faster over John. He could feel his muscles clenching around Sherlock’s erection and reached back to wrap his fingers around Sherlock’s wrist again.

Stranger: Sherlock froze as John’s muscles locked around him, locking him into place. He felt a warmth wrap around him and his orgasm burst from him. He screamed out and froze deep inside of John. “God! JOHN!”

You: John panted heavily, letting each of them ride their orgasms before collapsing down on the bed. “You all right?” John asked, meeting Sherlock’s eyes as the other man shifted to lay down next to him.

Stranger: Sherlock pulled out when he could and collapsed next to John. “Yeah,” he muttered, smiling. “And you? You looked sore. You may not be able to sit...”

You: John waved that away, a smile growing on his face. He pulled Sherlock into his arms, nuzzling against his neck. “I’ll be fine,” he murmured. “You enjoy your first time?”

Stranger: “Yes, it was enjoyable,” Sherlock smiled. “Are you sure you’re okay though? We have to sit on a plane for quite a few hours later...”

You: “Sherlock, I’m fine,” John said, wriggling his hips a little bit. “I can handle rough sex just fine.” He kissed Sherlock’s neck, running his teeth down the muscle in the side.

Stranger: “You might want to stop that,” Sherlock whispered, craning his neck so John could have a better angle.

You: “Not just yet,” John replied, nibbling at the skin under Sherlock’s jaw. He continued to move up and down Sherlock’s neck, holding the other man tightly. And if he had any say over it, he was never letting go again.

Stranger: “J-John,” Sherlock muttered, his member twitching in interest again.

You: “What?” John asked, voice muffled against Sherlock’s shoulder.

Stranger: Sherlock turned over onto his stomach to hide this quickening erection. “Stop...”

You: “What’s the matter?” John asked, worried. He propped himself up on one elbow to study Sherlock.

Stranger: “Just stop,” Sherlock muttered, blushing. “I’m... um... I’m..”

You: John laughed then, running a fingertip down Sherlock’s spine. When he reached to base of his spine, he continued down over one cheek and then went back up. “What is it, love?” John whispered, leaning down to mouth over Sherlock’s ear.

Stranger: “John... please...” Sherlock moaned into the pillow.

You: “Tell me, Sherlock,” John stated, teasing at the cleft of Sherlock’s ass when his hand made it back down. He pressed a kiss to the back of Sherlock’s neck, letting his tongue flick out against the skin.

Stranger: “I’m getting hard again, please, John... stop...” Sherlock moaned deeply.

You: “Do you really want me to?” John asked, flattening his palm over the base of Sherlock’s spine.

Stranger: “Y... no...” Sherlock muttered, burying his face farther into his pillow.

You: “Look at me, love,” John said, pulling back so Sherlock could sit up. “You don’t have to be embarrassed.”

Stranger: “I know,” Sherlock muttered, burying his face into John’s neck. “Can’t help it.”

You: John rubbed circles on Sherlock’s back, more soothing rather than arousing now. “All right, I’ll stop then,” he murmured, kissing the top of Sherlock’s head. “It’ll just take you a little time to get used to all this.”

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and shifted slightly, his member brushing John’s leg and forcing a moan to escape from his lips. “God...”

You: Chuckling, John let his leg shift just enough to cause a little friction before settling back down. He pressed another kiss to the top of Sherlock’s head then said, “We should probably consider getting dressed and letting Mary back in.”

Stranger: “Maybe you should do that and I should go lock myself in the bathroom for a little bit...” Sherlock chuckled dryly.

You: “And what would you be doing in there?” John asked, skimming a hand over Sherlock’s side.

Stranger: “Getting rid of this,” he muttered, motioning downward. “Can’t really get dressed with it...”

You: John let his hand wander to Sherlock’s hip, just barely touching the skin next to his groin. “How about I help you?” he suggested, tilting his head to mouth at Sherlock’s ear. Without waiting for an answer, he let his fingers slip over and trace the vein in Sherlock’s erection.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded slowly. “If you’re sure... you won’t get hard again?”

You: “If I do, it’s not a big deal,” John replied. He shifted them so that he could reach Sherlock’s neck and lips with his own and didn’t have to stretch quite so far to reach his erection. He wrapped his fingers around Sherlock and stroked slowly from base to tip, twisting his fist at the top.

Stranger: “G-god..” Sherlock moaned, dropping his head to John’s shoulder. He pumped his hips lazily into John’s hand, keeping it slow so John could do most of the work. “You... you feel... nice...”

You: “Just nice?” John teased, squeezing harder. He stroked faster, nipping at the skin underneath Sherlock’s ear.

Stranger: “Amazing,” Sherlock corrected. “Utterly amazing... and warm... and just... god.”

You: John grinned, enjoying the fact that he could make Sherlock stutter as he was doing. He trailed his lips down to Sherlock’s chest, laving his tongue over one nipple.

Stranger: Sherlock moaned and arched up into John’s mouth, trying to get him to do more. “God... I love you, John,” Sherlock whispered, his face becoming flushed. “I love you.”

You: “I love you,” John replied then bit gently at the nipple he’d be lavishing attention on. As Sherlock gasped, he moved to the other side. Sucking and biting, he pumped his hand faster over Sherlock’s erection.

Stranger: Sherlock’s body froze, unable to move, as John worked his nipples and erection. He just let John do what he knew would drive Sherlock crazy, and he was doing a damn good job of it.

You: Leaving Sherlock’s erection for the moment, John’s hand drifted down and cupped his balls. He rolled them with his fingers, feeling the groan Sherlock let out as a vibrating in his chest. “That good?” he asked, meeting Sherlock’s eyes.

Stranger: Sherlock could only nod, unable to get his body to work with him. “Nah,” Sherlock moaned as John messed with his balls more, rolling them and just touching them.

You: John chuckled again and moved his hand back up to Sherlock’s erection. He pumped quickly now, wanting to drive Sherlock absolutely speechless. Leaning up, he rested his head in the crook of Sherlock’s shoulder and pressed kisses to his neck.

Stranger: Sherlock rolled his head to the side so John could have more room. He wanted John closer, even though their bodies were basically already on top of one another. Moaning loudly again, Sherlock bucked up lightly into John’s hand.

You: “Come for me, Sherlock,” John whispered. He twisted his hand as he stroked and shifted so that he was lying half on top of the other man.

Stranger: “A-almost,” Sherlock whispered, his breathing a pant over John’s ear. “F-faster... h-harder...”

You: Nodding, John tightened his hand and pumped faster. He bit at Sherlock’s neck, sucking another bruise over the muscle.

Stranger: Sherlock groaned John’s name, chanting for him to keep going. His orgasm was pooling in his stomach and he dropped his head to John’s shoulder.

You: John stroked Sherlock through his orgasm then slowed down. He continued to caress him but gently in deference to the sensitivity he knew Sherlock would be feeling. “You never have to go away to deal with an erection,” he told Sherlock, kissing him. “I rather enjoy touching you.”

Stranger: “I... liked it... too,” Sherlock panted, smiling at John. “You feel... so good... love you.”

You: “That’s good,” John murmured, wrapping his arms around Sherlock and hugging him. “But I really do think it’s time to get dressed.” He eased off the bed and held out a hand to Sherlock for him to get up as well.

Stranger: Sherlock stood and looked between the two of them, then at the bed. “I think a shower and a trip to the washing machine is in order. Shower before we dress, especially,” Sherlock said, pointing at John’s stomach. “Don’t want that getting on your clothes, do you?”

You: “Not really no,” John laughed, twining their fingers together. “I think a shower is a wonderful idea. Let’s go.” He pulled Sherlock towards the bathroom and turned the water on.

Stranger: “Together?” Sherlock asked, smiling down at his doctor as he bent over the tub to turn the water on. “And at least try not to stick your ass in my face when we just finished fixing our problems.” He chuckled and slapped John on the cheek playfully.

You: John jumped, a little surprised that Sherlock had gotten over his shyness so quickly. Then again, it was Sherlock. The fact that he was shy and embarrassed was the anomaly, to be honest. “But where is the fun in that?” he joked, arching one hip up. “And yes, together. I want to have my hands all over you again.”

Stranger: Sherlock smiled and placed both hands on John’s hips, stepping up behind him. “I think I’d enjoy that,” he whispered, giving John’s hips a squeeze.

You: John rested his head against Sherlock’s shoulder as he waited for the shower to heat. Once it did, he pulled Sherlock in with him. He maneuvered the other man underneath the water, tangling his fingers in Sherlock’s hair.

Stranger: Sherlock leaned his head back to let the water fall on his face. “This is nice,” he muttered, pulling John by the hips closer to him.

You: “Yes it is,” John agreed, leaning up to press a gentle kiss to Sherlock’s lips. He pulled away enough to pick up a bar of soap and start rubbing it over Sherlock’s shoulders and chest.

Stranger: Sherlock let his lover run the soup over his skin for a few minutes before he reached over and took the bottle of shampoo. He poured a good amount into his hand and ran his hands through John’s hair.

You: John tilted his head towards Sherlock, eyes closing. It felt really good having Sherlock’s fingers running over his scalp. Once he rinsed out the shampoo, he did the same for Sherlock, enjoying the contact.

Stranger: Sherlock hummed softly when John ran his fingers through his hair. “You’re adorable,” Sherlock whispered. “I’m glad you’re mine.”

You: John hummed, pressing a kiss to Sherlock’s forehead. They rinsed each other off and then stepped out of the shower. John handed a towel to Sherlock and dried himself off.

Stranger: “I like it when you’re hair is plastered to your forehead,” Sherlock smiled, pushing a blond strand out of John’s eyes.

You: “Well, it happens every time I take a shower,” John replied, rubbing a hand over his hair. “This won’t be the last time you see it.” He kissed Sherlock then headed out into the room, pulling out clothes for himself.

Stranger: “Sounds nice,” Sherlock said as he picked up his own clothes and handed John his pants. He dressed quickly, pulling on his shirt last.

You: John pulled his eyes away from Sherlock to pull his own clothes on. If he continued to watch, he was fairly certain he’d have Sherlock in bed again within a few seconds. Or on the couch or against the wall, whichever was more convenient.

Stranger: Sherlock took John’s hand and pulled him towards the door. “I guess we should go and get Mary, huh?” Sherlock said, opening the door for John.

You: “Yeah, we should probably be ready to leave,” John said, leading Sherlock out into the hallway. “You know how impatient Mycroft can be.” He shook his head when he saw Mary sitting in a chair near the elevator, eating her lunch neatly.

Stranger: “You can come back in, Mary,” Sherlock said, waving her back .”And I know, I grew up under him.” Sherlock growled the words as though they pained him to remember. “But... I guess he’s not... that bad now...”

You: “Greg’s mellowed him a little bit,” John nodded while Mary cleaned up her lunch. “At least when it comes to interacting with people he knows.” He waited with Sherlock until Mary stood and they all headed back to the room. John turned on the TV, hoping to distract himself with the lives of fictional characters.

Stranger: Sherlock glanced at the telly and raised an eyebrow at what John was watching. “What is that?” he asked, leaning on the back of the couch.

You: “An action film, I think,” John said, studying the movie on the screen. A gunfight broke out, confirming his guess.

Stranger: “Mind if I join you?” Sherlock asked, getting into the fight. “Looks... not boring...”

You: “Course not,” John replied, grabbing Sherlock’s hand and pulling him down next to him on the couch. “But I’m sure you can deduce the whole plot within a few seconds, right?”

Stranger: “Yes, but I won’t this time, if that makes you happy,” Sherlock said, settling into the couch.

You: “Go ahead, if you want,” John said, smiling. “I don’t really care about the movie and I like watching your brain work.” Standing behind them, Mary rolled her eyes at the sentiment and fluff in front of her. Now she understood what exactly was going on and why John had frozen when she kissed him.

Stranger: “Well...” Sherlock smiled, leaning forward on his knees. “The man on the left, in the black jacket, he just stole the guy in the blue jacket’s girl. The man in the blue jacket is now trying to win the girl back, as well as saving his job. Turns out that the man in the black jacket is actually his brother.” He paused and sat back, rolling his eyes. “It’s all about her money. Typical.”

You: “How could you possibly have gotten all that just from this minute and a half?” John asked, tone full of wonder and love. “They haven’t even said anything yet.”

Stranger: “Look at their hair and eyes, perfectly the same color and everything. Then her necklace, obviously of money,” Sherlock sighed, trying to keep from rolling his eyes again. “It’s all painfully obvious, and if I’m right, they’ll mention it all in about two minutes here.”

You: John watched, waiting for the dialogue and to see if Sherlock was right or not. But he was pretty sure the other man was absolutely correct. “I want her back,” the man in the black jacket said. “She loves me, not you.”

Stranger: “How wrong you are, brother dear,” the man in the blue jacket smirked, waving his gun around. “If she loved you so much, why is she willingly staying with me?”

You: “I don’t know, I can only think you threatened her,” the other man growled, squeezing off a few more shots. John turned to Sherlock and said, “Looks like you might have been wrong about the money.”

Stanger: “Just keep waiting,” Sherlock rolled his eyes. He shifted so he was laying down with his head in John’s lap. “You’ll see.”

You: John ran his fingers through Sherlock’s hair as they watched the movie. It took longer, but the money was indeed a motivating factor. When the movie ended, the woman had gone back to the man in the black jacket, who had been forced to kill his brother. “Guess you were right,” John remarked.

Stranger: “Of course I was right,” Sherlock muttered, his eyes closed as John ran his hand through his hair, having lost interest in the movie after deducing the plot. “What did you expect? For me to be wrong?”

You: “You aren’t right all the time,” John reminded him, a fond smile on his face. “Remember when you thought Harry was my brother?” Before Sherlock could reply, though, Rene walked in the room, yawning.

Stranger: “I take it everything went well,” Sherlock asked Rene after he had rolled his eyes at John.

You: “Tolerably,” Rene said, giving Mary a little smile. He saw the remains of the lunch that Sherlock and John still hadn’t eaten and dived into the plates. “Desmond is... upset. He wants to start a war with the other cartels.”

Stranger: “Tell me exactly what he said he wanted to do,” Sherlock said, sitting up against John’s will and standing. He moved over to Rene and sat down across from him at the table.

You: “He believes that whichever cartel Mary was giving information to rescued her,” Rene explained between bites. “He wants to start by inviting the leaders of all the cartels to a “conciliation meeting” or something like that and then kill them all.”

Stranger: “I’ll go alert Mycroft,” Mary said, exiting into the bedroom. There was a moan from the bed as she sat down, a thump, and a groan from her. She came walking back into the sitting room and moved to the door. “Well... I’m going to make the phone call in the hall,” she muttered. “Sherlock, take care of the sheets, please.”

You: John laughed sheepishly before getting up and walking to the bed. He stripped the bed, piling the sheets neatly near the door. “You know, Mycroft may ask you to stay longer to deal with Desmond,” he remarked, coming back and draping an arm over Sherlock’s shoulders.

Stranger: “Well, then I’ll come back,” Sherlock growled, frowning at John. “I want to come home for a little while at least.”

You: “It all depends on what he wants to do,” John replied, shrugging. “He may want to completely replace the agents here.” Mary came back in then, a small smile on her face.

Stranger: Sherlock pulled John into his lap and turned to Mary. “What did he have to say?” he asked, wrapping his arms around John’s waist.

You: “Well, he’s scheduled a flight for the three of us tonight,” Mary said, sitting down on the now-free couch. “He wants to meet with you and Rene, Sherlock, as soon as we land.”

Stranger: “Well, I think I’m going to be “missing” the flight,” Sherlock smiled, looking up at John. “I kind of booked different plans.”

You: “Are you sure you really want to do that?” Rene asked, frowning. When Sherlock turned to him, an angry look on his face, Rene held up his hands in a soothing gesture. “I’m just saying, you’re the one who vouched for me. Shouldn’t you be there to continue to do so? I don’t want to end up just disappearing.”

Stranger: “We could all miss the flight. I can easily get more tickets,” Sherlock smirked. “Something caught our attention, forgot the time, missed the flight, so on and so on.”

You: “But I really do need to get home,” John murmured, leaning over to whisper into Sherlock’s ear. “Besides, the quicker you deal with all this, the quicker you can move in with me.”

Stranger: “I booked this for you, John,” Sherlock frowned up at him. “Won’t you at least hear what it is?”

You: “Booked what?” John asked confused. “What are you talking about, love?”

Stranger: “You said that taking a boat back to London would be nice, so I booked us for a passenger boat to travel back,” Sherlock said. “I thought we could just... enjoy the views?”

You: “That sounds wonderful,” John said, remembering the conversation they had. And this time, he wouldn’t be waiting, he’d be with Sherlock. “How about Rene and Mary take the flight while we take the boat back?”

Stranger: “That’s what I’ve been trying to say,” Sherlock said, rolling his eyes. “I swear, do you even listen to me?”

You: “Seeing as this is the first you’ve mentioned it, no,” John replied cheekily. He looked at the other two and asked, “Will this work for you both?”

Stranger: Sherlock unwrapped his arms and crossed them across his chest, turning to Mary and Rene. “I think we can manage,” Rene smiled. “You two enjoy your little date.”

You: Sherlock rolled his eyes and opened his mouth to retort sarcastically but John stopped him with a quick kiss. "I'm fairly certain we will," he said instead. "It's been a long time coming."

Stranger: Rene chuckled and turned to Mary. "And I'm sure we'll enjoy some alone time as well," he smiled at her. "What time does your boat leave?"

You: "Tomorrow," Sherlock replied, leaning his head against John's side. "When exactly does your plane leave? I don't particularly want to spend the money for another room, but I can."

Stranger: "Tonight and ten. Sadly, it's a red eye flight," Mary muttered, placing a hand on Rene's shoulder. "Mycroft wanted us back as soon as possible."

You: "Do you feel that you need a second room?" Sherlock asked, eyeing both Mary and Rene. "Though, I am fairly certain that we can manage to get along for another few hours."

Stranger: "I think we're good," Mary said. Rene added on, "But we might send you guys on the dinner run if you... Don't mind, you know?" He winked at John, who laughed loudly.

You: "I think we can agree to that," John replied, while Sherlock rolled his eyes yet again. But he really did understand now. He couldn't wait to get John alone again, much as he could deal with the waiting.

Stranger: John leaned down and pecked Sherlock on the lips. "Want us to go now?" he asked as he pulled away from Sherlock to look at Mary, who was rolling her eyes, but smiling. "That'll give you some extra time. Sherlock and I can even eat out as a date and bring you back something, if that gives you more time?"

You: "That would be very kind of you," Mary said, smiling at both John and Sherlock. "Thank you." John got up and shrugged into his coat while Sherlock did the same. They hadn't even made it out of the room yet before Mary and Rene started kissing, Mary sliding onto his lap. "Where to?" John asked.

Stranger: Sherlock shut the door quickly and turned to John. "That depends," he said, starting toward the elevators with his arm wrapped around his boyfriend. "What are you in the mood for? Anything in particular?"

You: "How about we go somewhere for authentic French cuisine?" John suggested, letting his hip bump Sherlock's as they walked. "I mean, we are in Paris. Why not take advantage?"

Stranger: "Gladly," Sherlock smiled. "I mean, it's on Mycroft." He held John tighter as they got into the elevator, giving his shoulders a squeeze.

You: “You know he’s going to get this back out of you,” John said conversationally as the elevator headed down. “Whether it’s in cases or what-have-you, he will find a way.”

Stranger: “Oh, I know,” Sherlock smirked. “Doesn’t mean he’ll get his card back. And he’ll have so many he’ll never know it’s missing. Besides, he made me stay away from you longer than I deemed needed, he already is getting me back.”

You: John chuckled and walked with Sherlock out of the elevator. Since the day was relatively warm, they decided to walk to wherever they were going to eat. “Do you know of any other places than that place we went to the other day?”

Stranger: “There is one about ten blocks east of here if you want? It’s supposed to be pretty good,” Sherlock said, dropping his hand to the small of John’s back. “Would you like to go there?”

You: “Sure,” John nodded. “Feel like walking the rest of the way?” They’d walked about two blocks while they were talking and John had to admit he was enjoying the brisk air and the bustle of Parisian streets.

Stranger: “Sure,” Sherlock smiled as John looked around at the surrounding buildings. “Do you have a warm coat with you, by the way?”

You: “I’m warm enough in my jacket,” John replied, hooking one arm around Sherlock’s waist. “Besides, if I get cold, I’ll just stand a little closer to you.”

Stranger: I meant for the boat ride tomorrow,” Sherlock chuckled. “It gets really cold on the water.”

You: “Yeah, I should be fine,” John said, chuckling too. He was looking forward the the ride. He hadn’t spent much time around the ocean, having been in Afghanistan for most of his military career.

Stranger “Well, if not, I’ll be right next to you,” Sherlock said, pecking John on the cheek. He wasn’t used to all the cuddling and always thought the sentiment was pointless and stupid, but with John, he found he couldn’t help himself. He just naturally had to touch the man, had to kiss him and hold him closer every chance he got. “You can always have my coat.”

You: “Thank you,” John replied, a little whimsically. He took Sherlock’s other hand and pressed a kiss to the knuckles. While they talked and laughed, the last few blocks to the restaurant went past quickly.

Stranger: Sherlock opened the door and held it for John, following the doctor inside. They sat themselves and looked over the menu, Sherlock reading it with ease since he spoke French, but he caught John squinting at the print as though that would make it make sense. “You okay there, love?”

You: “I have no idea what this says,” John admitted, dropping the menu to the table. He chuckled self-deprecatingly, torn between enjoying listening to Sherlock speaking French and embarrassment that he didn’t.

Stranger: “What me to explain things to you?” Sherlock asked, sending John a small smile. “I speak French.”

You: “All right,” John nodded, moving the menu so that it rested on the table between them. “Can you just tell me things that have chicken or something? Or what do you recommend?”

Stranger: “Bifteck avec les pates et la sauce au vin blanche,” Sherlock muttered, smiling at John. “Very good, it’s Steak with pasta and white wine sauce. There is also Assiette de fruits et fondue de brie, which is wedge of baked brie with ripe melon and berries. Also the Palourdes au Gratin is amazing.”

You: “And what’s that one?” John asked, tilting his head. “Is it something to do with potatoes? Gratin is potato right?”

Stranger: Sherlock laughed lightly and pecked John on the cheek. “Not quite, love. It’s baked clams in garlic butter and bread crumbs,” he smiled, watching John turn red slightly.

You: “Right,” John muttered, looking down at the incomprehensible menu. “I guess I’ll get that one. It sounds good.” He pulled the menu back and closed it, not wanting to stare at the words he didn’t understand anymore.

Stranger: “It’s very good,” Sherlock smiled gently. “I’ve had it before, I think you’ll like it.”

You: John nodded and looked away. He picked up his glass of water and took a deep drink, studying the other people in the restaurant.

Stranger: “You’re upset,” Sherlock stated, frowning. “Why?”

You: “Not upset, no,” John demurred, shaking his head. “I just didn’t think. Of course the menus are all in French.”

Stranger: “What does that matter?” Sherlock asked, leaning closer to him on the table. “I mean, I can translate it for you. It’s not that bad.”

You: “I’m just not used to not being completely self-sufficient,” John admitted, sighing. “I usually know exactly what I’m doing. With this, I could be ordering poison or something and never know.”

Stranger: “Now, do you think I’d let you do that?” Sherlock asked, frowning deeper. “Do you not trust me? I mean, I rely on you for things, don’t you think that you can do the same?”

You: “No, I’m not saying I’d think you’d poison me,” John argued. “I mean that I wouldn’t know what it was I was ordering.” He reached across the table and patted Sherlock’s hand, smiling gently. “Don’t worry about it, Sherlock. It’s all fine.”

Stranger: “I just want you happy. This is technically our first date and... isn’t that kind of a big deal in a relationship?” Sherlock asked, turning his hand over and catching John’s.

You: “Yes, it can be a big deal,” John smiled, twining his fingers with Sherlock’s. “It’s fine, momentary crisis over now.” Before they could continue speaking, a waiter appeared to take their orders.

Stranger: “Can I take your orders?” She smiled down at the two of them. Sherlock squeezed John’s hand and turned to the waiter.”Yes, I’ll have the Bifteck avec les pates et la sauce au vin blanche. And you, John?” Sherlock asked, smiling at his boyfriend and squeezing his hand again.

You: “The baked clams,” John said, looking up at the waiter. “I won’t butcher the French.” He gave her a deprecating smile, deciding that if it continued to bother him, he could always learn French.

Stranger: The waiter nodded and headed back into the back to place their orders. "I could teach you sometime," Sherlock offered, giving him a small smile.

You: "It could be something to do in between cases," John nodded, smiling. "Though, do you have the patience to teach?"

Stranger: "With you, I think I can handle it," Sherlock chuckled. "By the way, are you a fan of red wine?"

You: "Yes, I am," John replied, tilting his head in curiosity. "Why do you ask? Is red the best to go with what we ordered?"

Stranger: "It is. Clams are seafood, and normally, seafood, steak, pork, and some chickens are best with red wine," Sherlock said. "And I think we should order the best red wine they own here."

You: "Mycroft is going to flip over this," John laughed, nodding eagerly. "I would love to get the most expensive bottle. Maybe next time he won't keep a secret this important from me."

Stranger: "No, he still might," Sherlock rolled his eyes. "But I never will. I'd go broke before that happens."

You: The continued to talk while waiting for their food, sharing bits and pieces of their lives while they'd been apart. John was especially interested in the places Sherlock had travelled to. Finally, a delicious smell heralded the arrival of their food.

Stranger: "Anything else, sirs?" The waiter asked, smiling between the two of them. "Yes," Sherlock answer. "What's the best, most expensive red wine you have here?"

You: "We have a Romanee Conti," the waiter replied, hoping they ordered the bottle. At three thousand dollars, she would probably get a really good tip. "Would you like a bottle?"

Stranger: "Please," Sherlock smiled up at her. "Make it two bottles, if you can."

You: "Of course," she replied, managing not to dance away as she went to go get the bottles. Of course, she only brought one at first, in a silver bucket filled with ice. She filled one glass about an inch and handed the glass to Sherlock. "If you were like to try it first?" she offered.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and took the glass, taking a small sip from it. He hummed happily and handed the glass to John. "I think it's up to our tastes, wouldn't you say, love?" Sherlock asked as John took the glass and smiled at the detective.

You: John took a sip and grinned back. "I think it would be worthy of the British Government himself," he said, laughing back. The waiter filled two glasses and left them to their meal, making sure that when the first bottle was emptied, she brought the second over.

Stranger: "I hope you were kidding," Sherlock muttered when the waiter left. "Mycroft isn't good enough for this wine." He smiled as he said it, John snorting and having to cover his mouth with his napkin to keep from spitting out clam. "Question is, is all this good enough for you? Is it worthy?" Sherlock watched as John turned a light shade of red.

You: "I like you like this," John said suddenly, his eyes warm. "You seem more human than you did when it was just the cases." He twined his fingers with Sherlock's again, squeezing his hand.

Stranger: Sherlock paused for a moment before he squeezed John's hand back. "Is this what Lestrade said about turning me into a good man?" He asked, remembering when Lestrade told John he could turn Sherlock from a great man to a good one. "Is it... Good?"

You: "Yes, I think that may be what Greg was referring to," John nodded. "And yes, the wine is delicious." He took another sip of the wine, enjoying the flavor as it rolled down his throat.

Stranger: "And is it a good thing that I've "changed?"" Sherlock asked, bothering the inside of his bottom lip. "I mean, is it what you want?"

You: "I want you to be you, Sherlock," John replied seriously, ignoring his food for the moment. "I fell in love with the man you are, bad habits and the work included. I have to admit I enjoy seeing you being more approachable but you can still be the same as you were before all this happened."

Stranger: "Thank you..." Sherlock smiled lightly, looking into John's eyes. "I'm not used to hearing that. Normally people... Well, they call me names when I act like who I really am. Honestly, John, I act like it doesn't bother me, but it does. When I was twelve, Mycroft was getting ready to go to uni. I went in to give him a few books he left in my room, and I don't remember word for word what happened, but he ended up calling me a freak... That's what closed me up for good..."

You: "I'm sorry, Sherlock," John told him, shaking his head. He squeezed Sherlock's hand again, giving him a heartening smile. "You'll never have to worry about that with me. I may call you a git sometimes, but that's about it."

Stranger: "But you never mean it, so it doesn't matter. Mycroft meant it," Sherlock said, shaking his head and picking up his fork in his free hand. He poked at the food. "I've never told anyone this before; not even Mycroft."

You: "You should have," John said, shaking his head. "Of all people, you should be able to rely on family. You know, I never believed Sally when she told me you'd start killing out of boredom. I always ignored her and I'm really glad I did."

Stranger: "I couldn't. I just... Couldn't," Sherlock muttered. "And what does one have to do with the other in that sentence?"

You: "She always called you the freak," John explained. "I never believed her." He stopped there to take a bite of his clams when his stomach grumbled. "Anyways, I guess what I'm trying to say is I don't think of you as a freak."

Stranger: "What do you think of me as?" Sherlock asked, tilting his head. "Or yet, what did you when you first met me? When you first heard me called the freak?"

You: John thought about that for a few minutes, eating some more of his clams. Their first meeting was pretty much ingrained in his memory. "I thought you were brilliant," he finally said honestly. "Brilliant and mad and absolutely impossible."

Stranger: "And now?" Sherlock asked slowly, his cheeks coloring.

You: "I still think you're brilliant and mad and completely impossible," John laughed. "But now you're mine."

Stranger: Sherlock smiled at that, his cheeks turning back to normal coloring. "And you're mine," he whispered, smiling still. "And I hope that means forever."

You: "Definitely," John told him, squeezing his hand one last time before taking it back. "What do you think we should get for Mary and Rene?"

Stranger: "I don't know," Sherlock frowned. "Not this stuff. I swear, if we buy one more bottle of this wine, and somehow I end up drinking more tonight..." He just shook his head. "No. Not again. No."

You: John laughed then considered how much alcohol Sherlock had actually drunk. "You probably shouldn't have had this much," John told him, the doctor in him coming to the fore. "You'll probably have a bit of a hangover tomorrow too."

Stranger: "And yourself?" Sherlock frowned, finishing the last sip of his wine and pushing the glass away. "You've had just as much as I've had."

You: "True, but I didn't drink a lot of tequila yesterday," John replied, smiling. He ate more of his meal, savoring the melding of flavors in the sauce.

Stranger: Sherlock sighed and sat back. "I'll just drink a lot of water today," he muttered. "Besides, we'll be on a boat together, I doubt it'll be that stressful or loud."

You: "Unless you get seasick," John joked. He finished his glass of wine and poured some more for himself, offering the same to Sherlock. "Or there's a murder on board."

Stranger: "I don't get seasick," Sherlock scolded, narrowing his eyes on John. "Do you wish me to? And a murder on board, as perfect as that'd be, wouldn't it ruin it for you?"

You: John shook his head at the serious tone in Sherlock's voice. "It was just a joke, love. Though, if there was a murder, if would be a very small suspect pool."

Stranger: “This is true,” Sherlock nodded with a smile. “And I know it was, love.” He took John’s free hand under the table and smiled.

You: John shook his head again as he squeezed Sherlock’s hand. “Do you think we killed some enough time or would you like to go for a walk after this? We could walk off this lovely wine.”

Stranger: “I think a walk sounds nice,” Sherlock said, unable to help the small smirk that stayed on his lips. “The sun is setting and the stars are coming out; it sounds nice. Where would you like to go?”

You: “Wherever,” John replied, shrugging. “I just feel like a walk with you. It doesn’t really matter where we go.” He finished the rest of his meal while they talked, sharing small bites with Sherlock. He had to admit, the other man had good taste in food when John tried Sherlock’s. “Would you gentlemen like dessert?” the waiter asked, appearing at the side of the table.

Stranger: Sherlock looked at John, the doctor looking at him. “Would you want to split something?” Sherlock suggested, the thought of splitting a dessert with John making him smirk. He’d love to just be able to feed John small bites as he did the same, he didn’t know why, but that just sounded nice to him.

You: “Sure,” John nodded. “Could we see a dessert menu please?” The waiter nodded and disappeared for a minute and returned with a slim menu. “I’ll give you a few minutes to decide,” she said.

Stranger: Most of the menu was pictures so Sherlock pushed it towards John so it sat in the middle of the table. “See anything you want, love?”

You: “How about this?” John asked, pointing to a pear dessert that was labelled Pear Tarte Tatin. He pointed to another labelled Raspberry Brulee. “Or maybe this one? Anything you like, Sherlock?”

Stranger: “The Raspberry Brulee sounds wonderful,” Sherlock said, smiling at John as his eyes skimmed the menu. He really needed to treat his doctor more often. “Is that what you want?”

You: “Sure, I like raspberries a lot,” John said, looking up as the waiter came back. “We’d like the Raspberry Brulee,” John told her.

Stranger: The waiter nodded and Sherlock added, “And two coffees, if you could?” The waiter nodded again and set off to place the order. Sherlock turned back to John. “And you said you couldn’t speak French,” he chuckled.

You: John laughed back, relaxing into his chair. “My mum made a lot of desserts when Harry and I were kids. I learned a lot of different names then. How about you? What kind of desserts do you like to eat? I don’t remember ever seeing you eat anything sweet.”

Stranger: “I used to eat a lot of desserts,” Sherlock said shaking his head and chuckling. “I went through a period of weight gain when I was about five to eight. When I was nine was when I really stopped and by the time I was ten I was about as thin as I am now. I never really ate desserts after that, it only gave the other kids more to mock about me.”

You: “Let me guess, you and Mycroft used to fight over who got the last of the desserts when you were younger?” John asked, grinning at the mental image. He couldn’t imagine a chubby Sherlock and rather preferred the man as he was now.

Stranger: “No, nothing like that happened,” Sherlock chuckled. “There was basically all-you-can-eat desserts coming out of the kitchen. It was never a battle on who got what. But you can imagine what happened when I stopped eating the desserts and Mycroft got them all except for the occasional treat.”

You: John chuckled at that, finally knowing where exactly all of Sherlock’s jests over Mycroft’s weight came from. The dessert came out, the slight scent of raspberries wafting up from it. “It smells delicious,” John commented.

Stranger: “It does; very good,” Sherlock smiled, handing John a fork and the raspberry sauce. “After you, love.”

You: John gathered some of the gooey dessert on his fork and took a slow bite. He closed his eyes in bliss, the flavor bursting on his tongue. He let out a small, appreciative groan before opening his eyes again.

Stranger: Sherlock smiled as a drip of the sauce ran down John’s chin. “Love, you have some-” Sherlock indicated with his finger where it was, using his own chin.

You: John picked up his napkin and dabbed at the red sauce that was dripping. He hadn’t even felt it. “Your turn, then,” he said, handing the fork to Sherlock.

Stranger: Sherlock took the fork and scooped some onto it. He took a bite and hummed in agreement. “Very good,” he hummed. He took another fork full and lifted it towards John’s mouth, watching as the doctor raised an eyebrow at him.

You: “What are you doing, Sherlock?” John asked, studying the forkful of dessert that was in front of him.

Stranger: “Is it not romantic to have one feed the other partner?” Sherlock asked, tilting his head slightly, withdrawing the fork a few inches. “Was I mistaken?”

You: “No, you weren’t,” John whispered, throat tight. He leaned forward and licked at the confection on the fork, eyes on Sherlock’s, before closing his lips over it. He worked his tongue over the tines and slowly let the fork slip from his mouth.

Stranger: Sherlock’s eyes widened as he watched John’s mouth. “You’re... God,” Sherlock muttered, his own mouth suddenly very dry.

You: “Not quite, but it’s a nice compliment,” John replied slyly, sitting back and taking the fork. He scooped up some raspberries and held the fork out to Sherlock.

Stranger: Sherlock took the fork in his mouth and sucked on it lightly. He let a single drop escape his lips and slide down his chin as he relaxed back into his seat.

You: “Sherlock...” John murmured, eyes locked on the drop making it’s way down Sherlock’s chin. “You... uh.... missed a spot.”

Stranger: “Where?” Sherlock asked moving his fingers to his lips and sucking on them lightly with an innocent look on his face.

You: John swallowed noisily and pointed, resisting the urge to wipe the sauce from Sherlock’s chin himself. “There,” he said.

Stranger: “Here?” Sherlock asked, swiping his tongue along his lower lip on the other side from where he knew the sauce was. “Did I get it?”

You: “N... No,” John said, reaching out to Sherlock’s chin. He cupped his fingers over Sherlock’s jaw and used his thumb to wipe away the sauce. He then brought his hand to his mouth and licked the sauce off his thumb. “There, all gone.”

Stranger: Sherlock’s crotch twitched in annoyance at the fact that he couldn’t have John over this table right there right that second. Instead, he swallowed dryly and picked the fork up again, spooning some and lifting it to John. “Thank you, my love,” he said smoothly, his voice dropping an octave or two.

You: John smirked at Sherlock and took another bit, letting the fork slide out of his mouth again. He licked over his lips slowly, letting another small groan leave his throat. “This really was a good idea,” John said.

Stranger: “In some cases, yes,” Sherlock said, watching John’s tongue masterfully move over his perfect lips. “In others, maybe not.” He shifted slightly, his member straining against his pants. He pulled his coat around himself tighter to cover his lap, but it didn’t help much.

You: “What cases would those be?” John asked, noticing all the shifting Sherlock was doing. He took the fork again, gathering up another bite for the detective before holding it out for him. Only random thoughts about fires or plot points for another book kept him under control.

Stranger: “I think you know,” Sherlock growled. He took a finger full of the sauce and put it on John’s finger, pulling that towards him after setting the fork down. He took the finger in his mouth, not caring they were in a public area, and sucked on it, licking at the sauce.

You: “I do,” John agreed, watching Sherlock’s lips and tongue. The rest of the restaurant receded from his awareness and all he wanted to do was push Sherlock onto the table and lick all over him. He shifted on his chair, completely unable to stop himself from hardening at Sherlock’s touch.

Stranger: Sherlock wrapped his tongue around John’s fingers and sucked a little harder. Once he was sure all the sauce was gone, he popped John’s fingers out with a wet sound and stared at his lover. “Do you... want to go get a room somewhere?” he asked, his member pressing painfully against his zipper.

You: “Oh god yes,” John replied breathily, echoing the first time Sherlock had challenged him to something. He took his hand back and wiped his wet fingers on a napkin, handing the fork back to Sherlock. “Though we should finish dessert.”

Stranger: Sherlock spooned a big forkful up and lifted it to John’s mouth. “Then finish it,” he smiled, bothering his bottom lip. “I just want you for dessert, John.”

You: John nodded, his dark blue eyes locked on Sherlock’s quicksilver ones. He leaned forward, letting his mouth part and the tip of his tongue dart out. He licked at the dessert then engulfed the fork. Working his tongue over it again, John watched Sherlock’s eyes dilate and his breath catch in his throat.

Stranger: “God,” Sherlock muttered. “Please, hurry up... I can’t sit here and watch this for long...” He shifted again, and a small whimper left his throat.

You: John let the fork slide from his lips and licked over them again. "One last bite for you," John murmured, taking the fork from Sherlock's almost nerveless fingers. He scooped up the last of the dessert, holding it out to Sherlock with a wicked grin.

Stranger: "That grin worries me, love," Sherlock chuckled before he took the dessert in his mouth, sucking on the fork gently, wrapping his tongue around the end. He let it slide from his lips slowly.

You: "Is that so?" John replied, laughing. "This is my "I have such a creative list of what I want to do to you" grin. And it's such a long list, Sherlock." The arrival of their waiter forestalled Sherlock from answering and John noticed she was fighting a bit of a blush. "Is there anything else I can get for you gentlemen?" she asked, her voice breaking just slightly.

Stranger: "The check, if you would?" Sherlock asked, handing her a card. "Just put it right on there if you would. What do you think, John? Thirty pound tip enough?"

You: John considered it for a few moments, brow furrowing. The waiter walked away with the card, not wanting to get involved in this discussion. "Well, those two bottles of wine were three thousand dollars a piece. Perhaps a little more? It's customary to tip ten percent of the check, isn't it?"

Stranger: "Are you suggesting a six hundred pound tip, John?" Sherlock asked, raising an eyebrow. "Because that's ten percent to the two bottles of wine."

You: John shrugged and lifted his glass to drink the last of his wine. "It was really very good wine," he mused, looking up at Sherlock out of the corner of his eye. "And besides, with the act we pulled with the dessert, I think our waiter is rather long-suffering. And Mycroft could surely handle it?"

Stranger: The waitress came back over then, handing him a small black folder. "Can you add a seven hundred pound tip?" He asked, filling out the inside of the folder.

You: The waitresses eyes widened as her mouth dropped open. But she recovered herself quickly and took a deep breath. "You can write in the tip you would like to leave on the receipt you sign," she explained, pointing to the line. "And may I say thank you?"

Stranger: "Not a problem at all. Thank you for putting up with our little show," Sherlock muttered, his eyes gliding over John as he looked down on the check.

"Of course," she replied, taking the check once Sherlock had put in the tip and signed it. She tucked it against her belly like a precious thing and smiled at John and Sherlock. "Please visit us again soon and have a wonderful day gentlemen."

Stranger: Sherlock stood, wrapping his coat around himself to hide the painfully obvious erection he had. He was lucky, he had a long overcoat, John, not so much. As soon as he stood, Sherlock saw how much his pants were straining. "Come on, love," Sherlock whispered, walking by John's side to shield most people from the view. "Let me help you with that."

You: John nodded, pulling the hem of his coat down as far as he would go. He started reciting the muscles in the human body to himself, willing his erection to shrink, even just a little bit. He followed after Sherlock automatically, enjoying the view in front of him. He missed seeing Sherlock in that coat.

Stranger: Sherlock moved outside quickly and started down the street. He pulled John into a nearby alleyway and pressed him quickly to the dirtier wall behind the man. "Let me help you a little before we go walking into a hotel," Sherlock whispered, leaning up against John and placing his palm to the erection.

You: John groaned and pumped his hips against Sherlock's hand. He wrapped his arms around Sherlock's neck and brought his head down to kiss. "Whatever you want, love," John whispered hoarsely.

Stranger: Sherlock cupped John through his pants, palming him slowly and carefully, kissing him needing. "I need you," Sherlock growled into John's ear. "I need you hard and doubled over a bed."

You: "I want that," John groaned, threading his fingers into Sherlock's hair. "I want you inside me, slamming me into the mattress."

Stranger: Sherlock took John hand and dragged him farther into the alleyway, out of sight from the crowds that hurried past on the sidewalks. He pushed him back up against the wall and quickly went straight to nipping at his ear. "Turn around, love," he growled, teasing John’s tongue from between his lips and sucking on it.

You: John groaned again, his hips grinding into Sherlock's hand. But a thread of caution still ran through him. "Sherlock, we... we can't," John stuttered. "We can't just have sex in this alley. What if someone passes by?"

Stranger: "Not sex if our clothes are still on," Sherlock growled, running his hand between John's legs and pulling up, cupping John's balls for a moment and playing with them. "Would you want to go to a hotel now, or after we mess around a little bit?"

You: John wavered for a moment then decided that Sherlock's overcoat would probably cover them enough. "I don't think I want you to stop," he murmured, leaning up to press a kiss to Sherlock's lips. He turned then, feeling Sherlock's hand dragging over his hip.

Stranger: Sherlock dropped his lips to John's neck, kissing and sucking at the skin. He pressed his erection to John's butt, rubbing up and down slightly. "We'll get a hotel after to take care of it more," he promised, nipping John's neck.

You: John nodded then rested his forehead against the bricks in front of him. Letting his hands drift back, he gripped Sherlock's hips and held the other man close to him. "Though we weren't going to get another room," John managed. "Rene and Mary leave tonight."

Stranger: "Fine with me," Sherlock whispered, biting John's neck harder. He pumped his hips a little harder, gripping at John's hands on his own hips. "You like?"

You: “Definitely,” John replied decisively, grinding his hips back hard against Sherlock’s. “What were you planning on doing here?”

Stranger: “Still figuring that out,” Sherlock admitted. “I thought I could try this, but... god, this is just aggravating and a tease.” Sherlock pulled John’s hips harder against his own and grinded some more. “Press harder, will you?”

You: “And if I wanted to tease you some more?” John murmured, pulling his hips forward until he was just barely touching Sherlock. He eased back against the other man slowly, creating just the smallest amount of pressure until he was melded against Sherlock again.

Stranger: “I’m fine with that,” Sherlock sighed into John’s neck, the pleasure slow and agonizing but amazing and wonderful all the same time. “As long as I get you longer.”

You: John laughed and managed to turn himself in Sherlock’s arms again. He let one hand slide down Sherlock’s chest and stomach to rest above the other man’s erection. “And if I do this?” John asked. “So close that you can feel the heat but not touching you?”

Stranger: Sherlock whimpered softly and nuzzled into John’s neck farther. He bucked his hips, trying to get friction against John’s hand. “Mean...” he muttered.

You: “Yes,” John agreed, chuckling darkly. “But you like it, don’t you? Not being in control for once?” He moved his hand over to Sherlock’s hip, letting the tips of fingers brush just hard enough to be felt through his clothes.

Stranger: “Yes,” Sherlock muttered again, nodding against John’s neck. “I do...” He nibbled John’s skin just above the pulse point, licking and teasing the skin lightly.

You: John tilted his head to give Sherlock more room. He moved his hand around to Sherlock’s back underneath the coat and splayed his fingers over the shirt. He could feel each of Sherlock’s breaths, coming quick and hard.

Stranger: Sherlock dragged his hand down to the small of John’s back and gripped it as he worked his neck. He continued to tease and lick the skin till John was moaning softly at the teething.

You: “Sh... Sherlock,” John whispered, pressing his hand tightly to Sherlock’s back. “Much as I don’t want to stop, we should get back.” He moaned when Sherlock bit him harder over his pulse, knees going weak.

Stranger: Sherlock felt John’s knees go weak and slowly helped him to the ground, not releasing his neck. “I don’t want to go back yet,” he muttered between licks. “I want you.”

You: “I know,” John said, meeting Sherlock’s eyes. He felt himself drown again, something he never tired of. He threaded his fingers into Sherlock’s hair and pulled his head up enough to crash their lips together. “I want you, too,” he whispered between kisses.

Stranger: Sherlock looked towards the sidewalk and noted they were fairly blocked by boxes and trash cans down on the ground. Plus the fact the sun had mostly set cast dark shadows over the two of them. Bothering his lower lip, he slid his hands down and unbuttoned John’s pants, slipping his hand in and working John’s erection out, slithering down between John’s legs after he made sure John was leaning against the wall. He ran his tongue over the erection and looked up at John through his lashes.

You: “Oh god,” John hissed, still caught in Sherlock’s eyes. It was the only thing he said, though. He settled back against the wall, spreading his legs so that Sherlock could sit more comfortably between them.

Stranger: Sherlock ran his tongue over the head a few times, lapping at the hole and dipping his tongue into it slightly. He slowly went farther and farther down, taking more and more into his mouth. He sucked on it gently, enjoying the noises John made above him.

You: John tried to keep his voice quiet, the hand not tangled in Sherlock’s hair clamped over his mouth. But little cries and moans made it through and John swore each one spurred Sherlock on to new things to drive him crazy.

Stranger: Sherlock finally made it down to the base and started moving back up, twisting his tongue around the erection and sucking on it as he went. He let his hand trail up to cup John’s cheek while the other went into his pants to play with his balls, hoping to get John to emit more of those delicious sounds.

You: “So good, ah,” John groaned, biting at his fingers to keep from screaming. He tightened his other hand in Sherlock’s hair, pushing to try and get the other man to move faster. “Please,” he begged, his hips pushing up slightly.

Stranger: Sherlock swirled his tongue at the head and popped off to look at John. “What is it you want, love?” he asked, looking at John through his eyelashes and smirking.

You: “I want you to go faster,” John breathed. “I want you to make me have to choke off screams so we don’t attract attention.”

Stranger: “God,” Sherlock whispered. He crawled back up and kissed John deeply, keeping it heated and deep. He kept it for a minute before pressing kisses back down John’s body to his erection, taking it in his mouth and sucking it into his mouth, moving up and down quicker than before.

You: “Yes, that’s it,” John moaned, his head tilting back to rest against the bricks again. His hips pumped up to meet Sherlock’s mouth, the hand in his hair stroking gently.

Stranger: Sherlock moved up and down quicker, running his teeth over the skin as he came up. He slid his hand back to John’s balls and started to play with them again.

You: “God, I knew your mouth was talented, but this is just sinful,” John groaned, cupping Sherlock’s jaw. He could feel Sherlock’s muscles working as he swallowed. He could feel the tightening as Sherlock rolled his balls in his hand and knew he was about to orgasm. “Sherlock, gonna....,” he tried to stammer.

Stranger: Sherlock hummed and pulled back slightly, just enough so only the head of John’s erection was in his mouth. He sucked harder, cupping his balls and playing with them as he tried to draw John closer and closer to the edge. He hummed again, watching as the vibration sent John through a loop.

You: John’s hips pumped up one last time and he orgasmed with a choked scream. Both of his hands tightened on Sherlock’s head, the detective’s curls wound around his fingers. John kept his eyes locked on Sherlock’s while he came, drowning in the lust he could see there.

Stranger: Sherlock sucked and licked John through his orgasm, running his tongue through the liquid as it came from John. When John was finally finished, Sherlock popped off and crawled up to John to kiss him slowly, a simple caress of lips. “You were beautiful, love,” Sherlock whispered, cupping John’s face in his hands as he kissed him. “Amazing.”

You: John kissed Sherlock lazily, basking in the pleasure still coursing through his body. He could taste himself in Sherlock's mouth, something that was a little strange but not altogether unpleasant. "Where did you learn to use your tongue like that?" John asked, breaking their kiss to breathe.

Stranger: "I um... I guessed," Sherlock chuckled as he kissed John. "Was it okay?"

You: "Are you kidding, love?" John asked, laughing. "Didn't you hear me trying to hold back screams? You were fantastic. Though I really, really need to touch you right now." He suited an action to his words, laying his palm on Sherlock's erection and pressing gently.

Stranger: "Ohhhhh..." Sherlock hissed, his eyes closing. "Love... Please..." He ground down on John's hand, hissing again and kissed John's cheek messily.

You: "You want me to touch you, Sherlock?" John whispered, his breath ghosting over Sherlock's ear. "You want me to slip my hand inside your pants and wrap my fingers around you? Want me to stroke you until you come?"

Stranger: "Y-yes!" Sherlock stuttered, his erection pressing painfully into his zipper again and growing harder at John's tone. "P-please... I-I... Need that... Need you..."

You: "Good," John purred, undoing the button on Sherlock's pants and shoving his hand inside. He wrapped his fingers around Sherlock's erection and started pumping quickly. He wanted to hear the same bitten-off screams from Sherlock, know he was driving the usually voluble man speechless.

Stranger: "Oh!" Sherlock hissed again, dropping his head to John's shoulder. "God... John... God..." He pumped his hips into John's hand and moaned quietly, covering his mouth with his hand. His mouth was right next to John's ear, so he knew he heard the small "I love you's," he whispered almost breathlessly through his hand.

You: "I love you, too, Sherlock," John murmured, grinning wickedly at the sounds dripping from Sherlock's lips. He added pressure with his fingers, maneuvering his other hand between Sherlock's legs to cup his balls the same way Sherlock had done to him. "I want you to come for me," John continued, licking at the curve of Sherlock's ear. "I want you thrusting into my fist while I whisper into your ear. I want you to be holding back so many screams that you can't breathe."

Stranger: "Nahhh..." Sherlock moaned into his hand. His eyes fell closed and his other hand balled into a fist in John's shirt. "W-won't be h-ard..." Sherlock moaned again. "Hand... So good..."

You: "I like when you're incoherent, love," John whispered, trailing kisses down Sherlock's jaw. He stroked faster, concentrating on the head of Sherlock's erection. On every upstroke, John ran his thumb over the slit at the top and grinned as Sherlock jumped in his arms.

Stranger: Sherlock jumped when John stroked over the slit. "Oh God!" Sherlock shouted into his hand. He pumped hard once and paused, wanting John to keep moving. "l-love..."

You: "What is it, Sherlock?" John asked, slowing down to tease Sherlock. He traced the vein in the underside of Sherlock's erection with his fingers, brushing lightly down the length of the shaft and back up. "What do you want me to do?"

Stranger: "E-everything," Sherlock moaned, bucking forward when John slowed down. "D-don't stop... P-please... Love don't..."

You: "I love hearing you beg," John whispered, half to himself. He took pity on Sherlock, though, speeding up his hand and stroking hard. He couldn't wait anymore and John was fairly certain Sherlock couldn't either. "I want you to come for me, love," John murmured, kissing Sherlock.

Stranger: "Please..." Sherlock begged again into John's ear. "L-let me... Your hand... Please..."

You: "I've got you, love," John whispered. He kept whispering nonsense things into Sherlock's ear, kissing and licking at the skin underneath. He kept the pressure even now, teasing at Sherlock's balls with his other hand. When even that wasn't enough for him, John pulled Sherlock into his lap and start biting at the skin of his neck.

Stranger: Sherlock ground down on John's hand and lap, trying to get friction going. "Baby..." Sherlock moaned, unaware of the nickname he was giving his lover. "Baby..."

You: "Come on, Sherlock, that's it," John encouraged the other man. He started rolling his hips up against Sherlock's, creating friction from all sides for him. "I want you to come in my hand, love. I want you to moan."

Stranger: "Oh... I'm... I'm gonna... nahhh..." Sherlock moaned loudly as he came into John's hand. "Oh God... John..." He froze as his orgasm burst from him, his whole body stiff and pressed right up against John's.

You: "That's it, love, just ride it out," John whispered, palming Sherlock's erection gently now. He kept rolling his hips against Sherlock's as the detective shuddered through his orgasm. "I love you so much, Sherlock."

Stranger: "Love you... John..." Sherlock panted, letting his head fall to John's shoulder. "So... much..."

You: John pulled his hand out and carefully redid the button. Wiping his hand on his own jeans, John wrapped his arms around Sherlock and just held him as their breathing evened out and matched up. But soon, the cold ground started seeping through his jeans and John shifted uncomfortably.

Stranger: "Want to start back?" Sherlock asked, buttoning John's button up and pressing a light kiss to his cheek.

You: "We probably should," John replied. He hugged Sherlock tightly for a few moments, nose buried against his neck, before letting go. They both got to their feet, John a little stiffly, and John took Sherlock's hand again. "We should stop near the hotel to get food for Mary and Rene."

Stranger: "You mean the restaurant, love?" Sherlock laughed, kissing John's nose gently as they walked. "I agree, any idea what they want?"

You: "Yes and I have no idea," John replied, laughing as they stumbled a bit. He took a moment to look up at the sky, enjoying the deep blue. Everything seemed beautiful now.

Stranger: "Think they'd settle for pizza?" Sherlock laughed, exiting the alleyway. "There's a place a block away from the hotel we can stop in."

You: "I think they'd settle for anything as long as it was edible," John replied, moving Sherlock's hand from his own to the crook of his arm. "Especially if they've been indulging in any similar activities to what we've been doing."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and laced his arm around John's. "Then let's grab them a pizza and head back. I could use a nice hot shower then sleep, if you wish to join me?"

You: "That sounds like a good plan," John replied, turning their steps towards the hotel. "As long as I get to join you in the shower. I like seeing you all wet."

Stranger: "I wouldn't want it any other way," Sherlock chuckled. "Seeing you all wet and being able to put my hands all over you is definitely a highlight."

You: "I have a feeling our water bill is going to up at the flat, isn't it?" John asked wryly, grinning up at Sherlock. He honestly didn't mind if it meant more time he could run his hands over Sherlock's skin. And there were so many interesting things they could do in the shower.

Stranger: "Or go down, seeing we'll be showering together and not two separate showers," Sherlock grinned at John knowingly. "You never know, depends on what we do, I guess. I mean, you can't expect me to always be in good in the shower."

You: "When are you good?" John joked, grinning. "Though I wouldn't have it any other way." They had reached the pizza restaurant by now and John held the door open for Sherlock. They walked in, the scent of spices and marinara sauce rolling over them.

Stranger: Sherlock ordered the pizza and sat down with John to wait for the fifteen minutes they had to. "I can be good," Sherlock argued, picking up the conversation from before. "Like... I'm not mean when I don't talk to you. Or when we're just sitting in the flat and I'm talking to you to work out the case."

You: "I didn't mean it like that, love," John reassured Sherlock, patting his arm. "And you warned me at the beginning that sometimes you don't talk for days on end. It's all right. I was talking about getting our hands all over each other, not the rest of it."

Stranger: "I knew you didn't mean it poorly," Sherlock chuckled, catching John's hand in his. "I was just making a point I'm not always bad. Except when it comes to keeping my hands off you, that may be an issue."

You: John smiled and pulled Sherlock's hand up to press a kiss to his knuckles. They talked until Sherlock's name was called and John rose to grab the box. "Ready, love?" he asked, looking back at Sherlock.

Stranger: "Ready," Sherlock smiled, standing and following John to the door, opening it for him. He took John's free hand in his and gave it a squeeze.

You: They walked back to the hotel, laughing. John continued the balance the pizza while he held Sherlock's hand. Once back at the hotel, they stepped into the elevator. Since they had it to themselves, once the doors closed, John pulled Sherlock down for another kiss.

Stranger: Sherlock slid his tongue across John's lips, dipping inside as soon as they parted in a silent sigh. He mapped out John's mouth, licking at the roof and tongue that danced with his own. He pulled John closer by the hip, wrapping his hands around the back of John's neck and to the small of his back.

You: John surrendered to the kiss willingly, keeping just enough presence of mind to continue balancing the pizza. He kept his hand cupped over the back of Sherlock's neck, fingers teasing at the curls of hair that feathered over them. The dinging of the elevator forced John to pull back reluctantly as the doors opened on their floor.

Stranger: Sherlock groaned and glared at the doors, as if it was their fault John had pulled away, which, in a way, it was.

You: Laughing at the look on Sherlock's face, John walked out of the elevator and waited until the detective followed. They walked down the hallway together, John still laughing. He knocked on the door to their room, not wanting to walk in on Mary and Rene.

Stranger: Mary went to open the door, a robe wrapped tightly around her body and her hair still wet from the shower. "Hello, John," she smiled as she stepped back to let them in. "Sherlock. How was dinner?"

You: "Very good," Sherlock replied shortly as he and John stepped into the room. "We brought some pizza for both of you. I trust it will be satisfactory?"

Stranger: "At this point, yes," Rene chuckled, walking in and taking the box from John. "Will you two be sitting with us?"

You: "I think I'll just hang out on the couch for a while," John replied, shaking his head. "Sherlock, you want to join me?"

Stranger: "For a little while, sure," Sherlock nodded. "But then I need a shower."

You: John led Sherlock to the couch and sat down, pulling the detective tight against his side. "Mary and Rene leave soon," he murmured, pressing a kiss to Sherlock's temple. "We can shower then and have the room to ourselves."

Stranger: Sherlock hummed and nodded, relaxing against John and closing his eyes. "Sounds nice," he smile, leaning his head on John's shoulder.

You: John found something to put on the TV and settled into the couch to watch it. He listened with half an ear to the conversation between Mary and Rene, idly stroking his fingers through Sherlock's hair.

Stranger: Sherlock sighed as John's fingers ran through his hair. He tried to give the show John was watching some of his attention, but all that really mattered was John's touch. That, and, when they got back to London, he was going to be able to give John his ring... one that may just bind them till they actually had a wedding. Sherlock was excited for all of that, but, for some reason, he couldn't shake the fear and nerves that came with it.

You: When it was getting close to the time to leave, Mary and Rene moved around the room gathering up their personal belongings. By this time, Rene had gathered everything important to him and moved it here. Mary decided to leave everything in her flat; the only things there were clothes and some books, none of which she particularly wanted. When the clock struck 8, she sighed and ran a hand through her hair. "Time to go home," she muttered.

Stranger: "I can't believe we live all the way across town from each other," Rene muttered, wrapping his arms around Mary's waist and pulling her to him so he could look down at her closer. "We'll never be able to see each other. It's at least a hour and a half drive..."

You: "Ask Mycroft if you can stay in London," Mary suggested, hugging back. "My home is there and maybe you can start working with me or something."

Stranger: "I'm sure he'd go for that," Rene shook his head, frowning. "But I guess we can try."

You: The TV show ended and John sat up enough to stretch. He looked over the back of the couch and smiled. "Well, it was nice meeting you both. And I'm glad that we rescued you, Mary. Good luck in London," he said.

Stranger: “Nice to meet you too, John; Sherlock,” Mary said, turning and smiling at the two of them on the couch.

You: “Don’t let Mycroft push you around too much,” Sherlock added, looking at Rene. “Just remind him how useful you were to me if he tries anything.”

Stranger: “I’ll keep that in mind,” Rene smiled, chuckling and taking his and Mary’s bags in his hands.

You: John stood to see them out though he had no intention of going to the airport as well. He shook both of their hands at the door.

Stranger: Sherlock waved to them as they closed the door then stood when the doors finally snapped shut. “So, how about that shower?” he smiled as John turned towards him.

You: “Follow me,” John replied, grinning. He stepped into the bathroom and started the shower. He could hear Sherlock’s footsteps and started to pull his shirt over his head.

Stranger: Sherlock smirked as he watched John’s muscles as he pulled his shirt over his own head. His eyes scanned the paler skin that was revealed, going up to the damaged scarred skin on his shoulder.

You: John looked back at Sherlock, seeing that his eyes were locked on his scar. “It’s bad, I know,” he said shrugging.

Stranger: “It’s not bad,” Sherlock shook his head. He stepped up next to John and ran a finger over it. “I don’t think it’s bad at all.”

You: John shivered at the touch; most of his previous girlfriends had tried to ignore the scars. “It’s bigger than it should have been,” he continued, trying to sound casual. “The soldier who dug the bullet out wasn’t skilled at surgery.”

Stranger: Sherlock noticed the shiver and searched John’s posture, drawing from it as much as he could. “No one’s touched it before, have they?” he asked, whispering into John’s ear.

You: “Just the doctors who dealt with the wound and myself,” John admitted, shaking his head. “Some bits I don’t feel and some are rather sensitive.”

Stranger: “Should we find those places?” Sherlock smiled, leaning down to kiss the scar right in the center.

You: John hissed, his skin tingling where Sherlock’s lips rested. “Guess that’s one,” he muttered.

Stranger: Sherlock chuckled darkly and licked over the scar where he just kissed before moving to the edges, licking over the scar and running his hands over John’s bare skin on his sides. “You’re amazing, John.”

You: John merely nodded, wrapping his hands around Sherlock’s upper arms. He held on as the man explored his scar, moaning and twitching when he hit sensitive parts.

Stranger: “You like this, huh?” Sherlock asked, chuckling. “Come on, back up.” Sherlock pushed gently until John backed up to the wall.

You: John stepped back until his back hit the wall. He leaned up and kissed Sherlock softly, trying to show his love and appreciation through the kiss. “I’m surprised you aren’t disgusted by the scar,” he whispered. “Everyone else tends to be.”

Stranger: “Why would I?” Sherlock frowned, kissing the scar again. “There’s nothing disgusting about it.”

You: John managed to shrug without slamming his shoulder into Sherlock’s jaw. “It’s a sharp contrast, to be kind,” John replied. “And when people weren’t disgusted, they tried not to mention it or see it. I guess they thought it would drag up bad memories.”

Stranger: “It doesn’t, does it?” Sherlock asked, kissing the scar again. “I don’t want to offend you.”

You: “I remember what happened, but it’s not overwhelming,” John said, his head tilting back as Sherlock mouthed at him. “It actually makes a nice change to have someone see that part of me.”

Stranger: “Would, maybe, one day, you tell me what actually happened?” Sherlock asked quietly, placing his forehead on John’s shoulder and breathing over the dampened skin of the scar. “Only if you’re okay with it. I don’t want you uncomfortable.”

You: “I can tell you,” John replied, moving his hands from Sherlock’s forearms to his back. “It was during a routine patrol. We were ambushed. One of my platoon was shot and I ran out to try to pull him back. I didn’t realize I’d been shot until I felt fire in my shoulder. Even then, I tried my hardest to save the man I’d run out to.”

Stranger: “Was he alive?” Sherlock asked, raising his head to look at John’s deep blue eyes. “Could you save him?”

You: John sighed though a small smile grew on his face. “Yeah, I saved him,” he said proudly. “He was discharged too, but I saved him.”

Stranger: Sherlock kissed John on the lips lightly and mirrored John’s small smile. “That’s my soldier,” he whispered softly into John’s ear, closing his own eyes. “My amazing, strong soldier.”

You: “Not that strong,” John demurred, looking down. “I wouldn’t have had that limp if I’d been all that strong.”

Stranger: “You are strong,” Sherlock said, shaking his head and chuckling. “You’re stronger than anyone I’ve met. No weak person would have been able to shoot that cabbie and walk away without a glance over the shoulder. The limp was nothing. You fought it off.”

You: “You helped me,” John said, laughing as well. “You told me you weren’t a hero but you really are.”

Stranger: “I did nothing, John,” Sherlock said quietly. “I only provided a base, you built the rest of the tower.”

You: John laughed again, capturing Sherlock’s lips in a more passionate kiss. He slid one hand up into Sherlock’s hair, holding him close.

Stranger: Sherlock kissed back deeply, running one hand back over the scar again. He pushed John harder into the wall, lifting him up slightly and chuckling when John made a noise somewhere between a squeal and a yelp.

You: “Are you really strong enough to hold me up?” John asked, grinning wickedly at Sherlock. By this point, steam was starting to billow out of the shower and condense on John’s skin.

Stranger: Sherlock pressed his body harder into John’s to ease some of the weight off of his arms. “I can manage,” he smiled evilly back. “Besides, it’s nice to be able to look straight into your eyes for once, and not down into them.”

You: John nodded, pressing a kiss to Sherlock’s nose. He eased into Sherlock’s embrace then managed to wrap his legs around Sherlock’s waist. “I think this has some interesting possibilities,” he murmured, mouthing at Sherlock’s ear.

Stranger: “I have seven ideas,” he sighed, leaning into John’s mouth. “Okay, four.”

You: “You’ll have to share those,” John whispered, rolling his hips slightly against Sherlock’s. “Maybe in the shower?”

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and allowed John to stand on his own two feet. “Then I will,” he growled, into John’s ear. Undoing the man’s pants and lowering them to the floor. “Get in there.” He smacked John on the check and followed him into the steaming shower.

You: “You’re handsy,” John laughed, sending a mock glare over his shoulder. He turned under the spray and started to undo the buttons on Sherlock’s shirt.

Stranger: Sherlock let John undo the buttons slowly, bothering his bottom lip at the look on John’s face. He was just so adorable, focusing on the buttons and working each one free.

You: When he finished with the buttons, John caressed Sherlock’s chest moving up to his shoulders. He slid the shirt off, letting it pool on the floor. With another kiss, John undid Sherlock’s pants and helped them slide down.

Stranger: Sherlock watched as John’s hands worked his pants down, keeping his eyes on John as he kneeled down slightly to get the pants all the way off. “God...” He muttered, watching John’s butt stick out a little. “Can I come in yet?”

You: “Come on,” John replied, stepping back so that Sherlock had room. He watched the muscles shifting under Sherlock’s skin and swallowed audibly. “You are just gorgeous,”John whispered, pulling Sherlock into his arms.

Stranger: Sherlock pushed into John’s body, kissing him gently on the lips. “So how about I show you those ideas?” he asked, a smug smile caressing his lips. “I think we can start with number one, at least.”

You: “Maybe you should explain it to me,” John replied, winking. “Fully and completely, in great detail.” He trailed his nails down Sherlock’s chest, just hard enough to spike the pleasure with the a little bit of pain.

Stranger: “Do you really want me to take the time to tell you?” Sherlock asked, picking John up and pressing him harder into the wall so John’s hips were pressed just above his own. “Or can I show you just as fully and completely?” He started to work the skin just above John’s pulse point with his teeth.

You: “Oh, yes,” John groaned, tilting his head back so fast it thunked into the tiles of the shower. He wrapped his legs around Sherlock’s waist, grinding his hips down hard. “How about you do both?”

Stranger: Sherlock slipped his hand between John’s head and the tiles so he couldn’t hurt himself again and grinned when John wrapped his legs around his waist. “I think I can do that,” he muttered against John’s neck before pulling back and looking into John’s deep eyes. “First off, I need you to tilt back slightly so your back is flat against the wall,” he said, taking a very small step back. “I need the angle to fuck you hard.”

You: John leaned back, pressing his back into the tiles. He licked over his bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before letting it slip out once he was sure Sherlock’s complete attention was on his lips. “And now?” John asked, voice gravelly.

Stranger: “Raise your hips a little more. I need you to rest them just below my stomach,” Sherlock growled, helping John lift his hips with his free hand. “Once I can start moving in you, you can find a more comfortable position so I can fuck your mouth with my tongue as well, if you want.” Sherlock let his predator-like smile cross his lips, knowing what that did to John.

You: “Fuck, Sherlock,” John growled, rearranging his legs so that he was where Sherlock needed him to be. “The things your voice does to me.” He threaded one hand into Sherlock’s hair, tugging gently.

Stranger: Sherlock moaned quietly when John tugged on his hair, his eyes falling closed. “Listen to me,” Sherlock murmured, his voice gravelly and lust-filled. “John, you need to press down with your back only. If you do it correctly, I’ll slip right into you and I’ll fuck you so hard against this wall you won’t be able to stand for a good hour.”

You: “I can try,” John said, turning his head to lick around the shell of Sherlock’s ear. ”I want to feel you inside me. Can you reach with your fingers with me like this? I want you to drive me crazy fingering me open first.”

Stranger: “Wrap your legs around me tighter first,” Sherlock commanded, shifting John’s weight slightly and reaching around to John’s ass. When John’s legs tightened around Sherlock’s body, Sherlock chuckled darkly. “Don’t let go now. You’re going to feel so good, your muscles squeezed together to keep you from falling, wet and tight. Perfect.” He circled the entrance once, twice, then dipped his finger in, the hole tight and his cheeks pinching down on his hand.

You: “Please, Sherlock, want you to fuck me,” John mumbled, tightening his legs and wrapping his arms around Sherlock’s shoulders to help anchor himself. He managed to lean forward enough to press a sloppy, fevered kiss to Sherlock’s lips, his tongue licking over the bottom one.

Stranger: Sherlock slid another finger into the tight hole, the task difficult but worth it to feel that tight heat surround them. “God, John, you’re so tight,” he moaned into the kiss, his tongue mingling with John’s messily, licking over the other man’s lips, tongue, and even his chin. “You feel so good; so hot and wet... and just for me.”

You: “Just yours,” John agreed fuzzily. He rolled his hips again, his erection sliding over Sherlock’s stomach. “I can feel you so deep, Sherlock. God, I love this, I love you.”

Stranger: “I love you too, John. You’re always just going to be mine. No more women.” He pressed a sloppy kiss to John’s lips. “No more pointless dates.” He slipped his fingers out of John, hearing the other man whimper at the loss. He gripped his hips with his fingers tightly after licking the two that had been in John, locking their eyes as he did so, so John could watch him lick the dampness from them. “And finally, no more empty promises.” At that, he pulled John’s hips down and slipped inside of him before John could say anything. The other man yelped loudly and Sherlock pressed him harder into the wall.

You: John screamed as Sherlock buried himself completely inside him. He pressed back against the tiles, letting Sherlock control everything. “Come on, Sherlock, hard,” John begged, meeting Sherlock’s eyes in a challenge. “Keep talking to me, love.”

Stranger: “Tighten your legs around me,” Sherlock said, starting to move and pound into John, thrusting up hard and hitting John into the wall as he did so, the loud thumping lost to him. “I want you tighter around me so I can fuck you harder. I want it a challenge so when your muscles loosen enough you’ll slid down me and fuck yourself on my cock as well.”

You: John locked his legs around Sherlock as tightly as he could. He moaned as Sherlock continued to talk, his voice and the words sending thrills of pleasure down John’s spine. “You want me to do that?” he panted, grinning at Sherlock. “You want me riding you while you slam into me?”

Stranger: “Yes,” Sherlock growled, locking his eyes with John’s lust filled ones. “I need you to ride me. I want to feel the slick movement of your tight hole.”

You: John relaxed around Sherlock’s erection, rolling his hips to take him in deeper and deeper. “That’s it, fuck me Sherlock,” John murmured, groans intermixed with his words. He used the wall to push himself down hard, eyes never leaving Sherlock’s.

Stranger: Sherlock groaned as John slammed down onto him. “You’re doing that pretty well yourself,” he growled, smiling. He pushed up hard into John and pushed him hard against the wall, their bodies smashed together. Sherlock quickly darted forward and licked into John’s mouth, moving slowly around it and fucking it slowly.

You: John moaned, kissing back sloppily. He continued to roll his hips, angling so that Sherlock hit the bundle of nerves every other thrust or so. They moved together, his erection trapped between their bodies. John pulled back, breathing heavily, and said, “Talk to me, love. Tell me what you’re feeling, what you’re doing.”

Stranger: “What does it look like I’m doing? I’m fucking your mouth with my tongue,” Sherlock said, pushing up into John again and kissing him deeper. “Don’t stop now, I want to feel your tongue against mine. Come on.” Sherlock rolled his tongue against John’s as though he was rolling an “r” and heard John moan deeply.

You: John sucked Sherlock’s tongue into his mouth, wrapping his own around it. He opened wide to let Sherlock plunder his mouth, rolling his hips even faster. Moving his hands to Sherlock’s hair, John held the other man close and didn’t let him move away.

Stranger: Sherlock pushed John harder into the wall, twirling his tongue around the other man’s in a needy dance of lust and just pure love. “You’re... amazing...” he managed through the kisses.

You: John groaned again, smiling. As they moved faster, the groans turned to screams. The combination of Sherlock inside him and their bodies rubbing against his own erection had John extremely close to the edge. “Sh... Sherlock,” John panted. “Almost there.... talk to me.”

Stranger: “What would you like to hear, my love?” Sherlock whispered, getting close to John’s ear. “How much I love you? How excited I am to be able to put a ring on your finger and finally take you from the world? To have you as mine and only mine? To be standing in front of our friends and Mycroft and whoever you have on your family with our hands joined together? To finally be able to promise you the largest, life changing promise anyone can ever say in two small words?” Sherlock licked around John’s ear, nibbling it as he got closer before pulling away and getting as close as he could to mutter right into John’s ear. “I... do...”

You: John felt his breath slam out of him at the words, leaning forward to suck hard at Sherlock’s neck. Once he’d left a bruise there, John murmured in his ear, “All that and more, love. Your voice is just as gorgeous as the rest of you.”

Stranger: “Can you picture it, John?” Sherlock asked, keeping his voice low and right into John’s ear. “Both of us in a tux, you in a beautiful white one that makes your dark, blue, drowning eyes just pop and myself standing with you in a dark black suit. Maybe in the autumn time, so the trees can drop beautiful colored leaves down on us. Oh, love, if the wind was blowing, and you were standing right under a tree... the leave falling and blowing around you in a slow waltz... god... and I thought you were beautiful now... but like that? You’d be a dream...”

You: Listening to the sound of Sherlock’s voice, only dimly hearing the words, John let himself go. After a few more seconds of their bodies rubbing over his erection, John orgasmed hard. He clenched tightly around Sherlock, a scream bubbling out from his throat.

Stranger: Sherlock carried John through his orgasm, kissing his flushed cheeks gently as he came. By the time John was finished, Sherlock could feel himself getting closer to the edge. He pumped a few times more into John, nipping at his lover’s ear before he stilled and felt his orgasm burst from him. He gripped John tighter, pressing him into the wall if only to keep himself from falling down to his knees. When he finished, he sunk to the floor, letting John slide down the wall until Sherlock was on his knees in front of John, his member still deep inside the doctor.

You: “God, Sherlock,” John murmured when he finally caught his breath. “Why did we not do this earlier?” He dropped his head to the crook of Sherlock’s shoulder and let his breath even out. Luckily, the water was still warm and it sluiced the sweat and come from both of them.

Stranger: Sherlock slumped against John, too tired to try and move or even to pull out. “Because Mary and Rene were here and they definitely would have heard that...” he muttered, closing his eyes and breathing John in.

You: John laughed quietly, shaking his head. He pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s neck and hugged him tightly. “I meant earlier before you left,” he explained, voice breaking only slightly on the last word. “I’ve thought you were gorgeous since that night in Angelo’s, you git.”

Stranger: “That long?” Sherlock asked slowly, his breath ghosting over John’s neck. “I didn’t think you liked me that way till towards the end.”

You: "Really?" John asked. "You caught onto it, even though I denied it to make life a little easier. I didn't want to make either of us uncomfortable."

Stranger: "Yes, but you denied it... I honestly thought you were telling the truth," Sherlock muttered. "It upset me, to tell the truth."

You: "I'm sorry," John replied, gently kissing him. He moved his lips against Sherlock's, teasing him for several seconds. "We were both kind of stupid. But you are difficult to read, love, and once I decided that I might want to talk to you about it again, we were very comfortable as flatmates. I didn't want to lose one of the best friends I'd ever had. Not to mention the amazing flat."

Stranger: "Oh, so you only wanted me for the flat, I see how it is," Sherlock chuckled, shifting slightly and wincing in pain as his member was still buried inside John. "Think we can move from this position? It's starting to hurt."

You: John laughed, shaking his head at Sherlock. He slowly sat up, letting Sherlock slip out of him. He groaned at the loss, missing the feel of Sherlock inside him. However, he really wanted to get clean again.

Stranger: Sherlock moved so he was sitting against the wall next to John, moving closer and resting his head on John's shoulder. "Do you always want to stay in 221B?" he asked suddenly, closing his eyes.

You: "I like it," John said simply, wondering what exactly Sherlock was getting at. "I didn't even leave after I thought you were dead. Why do you ask?"

Stranger: "I've just was wondering, seeing you've always wanted a wife and a house... As well as kids," Sherlock muttered, snuggling farther into John's side.

You: John wrapped an arm over Sherlock's shoulder and took a moment to turn the water hotter so they weren't cold. "I want you, Sherlock," John said fondly. "I tried to find a wife. All those girlfriends, you remember? But anytime you needed something, I dropped everything for you."

Stranger: "But... Don't you want kids and a house and all that, regardless if you have me or not?" Sherlock asked, pulling back to look into John's eyes. "I know you've wanted them for a long time..."

You: John sighed and gave Sherlock a serious look. "Love, if that's what happens, then it happens," he explained, pressing a kiss to Sherlock's lips. "We don't exactly live a life conducive to children. Do you want kids and a house and all that?"

Stranger: "I've never thought about it," Sherlock said, shaking his head and kissing John again. "I just want what you want. I want you happy and to have what you crave for... so you don't leave because you get bored..."

You: John laughed again, amazed at the dimensions he'd never seen in the detective before. "I'm not likely to get bored, Sherlock," John replied. "I rather enjoy our life, running around London and going after criminals. And seeing you make deductions and solve puzzles. It fascinates me."

Stranger: "And you won't long for what you could have had with a woman?" Sherlock asked slowly. "And not me?"

You: "Why so self-conscious?" John asked suddenly, seeing a spark of fear in Sherlock's eyes. "I chose you, you silly git. I'm not going to be changing my mind."

Stranger: "But what if you find out you do want kids?" Sherlock asked, kissing John on the cheek.

You: "Then we'll discuss it," John shrugged. He pressed one last kiss to Sherlock's lips then eased to his feet. They really should finish their shower before the water got cold. "You don't have to worry, love. I'm not going to decide to leave you."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded after watching John stand. He followed after him, standing up and pulling the doctor into his arms for a kiss. "Alright, just don't hold back on telling me something like this," Sherlock muttered into his lips. "I want you happy."

You: John kissed him back tenderly, moving his lips slowly against Sherlock's. He kept the kiss chaste for now, just wanting to reassure Sherlock. "And what about what I want?" John chided Sherlock.

Stranger: "And what is that?" Sherlock asked, resting his forehead against John's. "What do you want?"

You: "I want things to go back to how they were," John said seriously, closing his eyes as he spoke. "I want you flailing around the flat in that ridiculous blue dressing gown. I want us getting called by Greg to cases where you show how brilliant you are."

Stranger: "You want things back just as they were?" Sherlock asked, watching John nod. "So you don't want me to kiss you anymore?" He joked, letting a small smile cross his lips.

You: "Ah, things back as they were with a minor caveat," John replied, opening his eyes to meet Sherlock's. "I want you in my bed whenever either of us have the desire for it."

Stranger: "So basically we won't be needing two rooms anymore?" Sherlock asked, kissing John's nose.

You: "Well, maybe you could move your experiments to one of them," John grimaced, fighting a laugh. "I would like to be able to eat off our kitchen table again when you're there."

"If you let me move my bed into your room and help me move some things around, we can sleep in my bed, seeing it's bigger, and I'll turn my old room into a lab," Sherlock said, smiling.

You: John nodded and hugged Sherlock, resting his head on the other man's shoulder. It still didn't feel quite real, as if this whole experience was something John was making up. He decided not to worry about it right now and just enjoy being here with Sherlock again. If it was all a dream, he could deal with it later. "We better clean up before we have icy water," he said.

Stranger: "Agreed," Sherlock nodded, yawning slightly and pulling John closer to him for a moment. He let go after a few minutes and reached for the soap, running the bar down John's chest. "But I get to wash you. This is my mess, after all."

You: John stood still as Sherlock ran the soap and his fingers over his skin. He couldn't help his eyes closing, the sense of touch heightening as soon as they did. John let out a few small moans as Sherlock worked, leaning into the other man.

Stranger: Sherlock chuckled at the small noises John made, running his hands over John's body slower. "You like?" he teased.

You: "Nope," John lied, shaking his head. "Just making these noises to accompany the water." He grinned at Sherlock, letting one hand trail over Sherlock's chest.

Stranger: "You're a prick, you know that?" Sherlock teased, biting John's shoulder roughly.

You: John hissed and jerked his shoulder back a little bit. "That was intense," he muttered, rolling his shoulder and stepping into Sherlock's space. "You enjoy doing that, don't you?" John let his hand wander further down and then scratched his nails over Sherlock's hip.

Stranger: "I might, yes," Sherlock chuckled and reached for the shampoo, dumping some into his palm and placing his hands into John's hair. He began to move his hands to massage in the shampoo and stopped when John's hair was as messed up as it was going to get. "And you enjoy turning me on, do you not?" He asked, hiding a laugh.

You: "Have to make up for so much lost time, don't I?" John answered cheekily. He tilted his head into Sherlock's hands, eyes closing as the shampoo dripped down his face. Once Sherlock was done, John moved under the water and rinsed the shampoo out.

Stranger: Sherlock followed John under the water, rinsing his hair to dampen it till it sat flat on his head. Once they were both finished rinsing their hair, Sherlock stepped away and picked up the soap bar, running it over his arm. “I guess you can try,” he mused. “But that’s, what? Five years?”

You: “Something like that,” John laughed, shaking his head. He took the shampoo and poured some onto Sherlock’s head before running his fingers through Sherlock’s hair. He could see more of the black growing out and it actually reassured him a lot.

Stranger: “You enjoy the ugly color of my hair growing back?” Sherlock asked, poking John in the chest playfully. “You’re staring.”

You: “It’s not ugly,” John protested, rolling his eyes at the poke. Sherlock was almost acting like a teenager with a crush but he wasn’t complaining. “You are interesting with lighter hair but I really like you with black hair.”

Stranger: “It looks better,” Sherlock muttered, running his hand through his hair and sending it a sinful glare. “I look awful like this... I don’t know why you fell for Dean.”

You: “You know, I don’t think I really did,” John commented, stepping back and watching as Sherlock rinsed out his hair. “I lost track of how many times Dean reminded me of you. I think I fell for you with a different name.”

Stranger: “Well, that’s good to know,” Sherlock laughed, running his hands through his hair as he stepped out from under the water. He kissed John again, moving his lips slowly before leaning back and smiling at his boyfriend.

You: John grinned back then leaned forward towards Sherlock. He let his lips just graze Sherlock’s chest as he reached around and shut the water off. Straightening, John winked and stepped out of the shower to grab two towels, handing one to Sherlock.

Stranger: Sherlock wrapped his towel around John’s shoulders and chuckled. “You think you’re getting away that easily?” he teased, reaching up to brush the towel roughly through John’s hair.

You: John ducked away, laughter bubbling out of his throat. “You have to remember, Sherlock, I was a soldier,” he replied, knowing that the detective would remember the words. “I’m sure I can get away.”

Stranger: “Oh?” Sherlock asked, raising his eyebrows in a challenge. “Want to try me, Watson?”

You: John merely arched an eyebrow at Sherlock before carelessly turning his back and opening the door. He counted in his head, wondering if he’d even hit 10 before Sherlock got to him.

Stranger: Sherlock dashed after John, wrapping his arms around the doctor’s shoulders. “Is that all you’ve got?” he teased, chuckling into John’s ear.

You: “Would you really like to know?” John asked, looking around the room quickly. He’d made it almost to the bed and judged that if he twisted just so he could toss Sherlock over his shoulder and onto the bed.

Stranger: “I would,” Sherlock growled, nipping at John’s ear playfully. “Show me what you’ve got, soldier.”

You: John took a deep breath, grabbed Sherlock’s arms and then dropped his shoulders down to shift his center of balance. With a quiet grunt, he pitched Sherlock over his shoulder and onto the bed, grinning at the surprised look on the detective’s face. John crossed his arms over his chest and just stood there.

Stranger: Sherlock sat up on the bed and rubbed at the base of his neck, just where it curved off into his shoulder. “Is that all you’ve got?” he asked, dropping his hand. “Please, I’ve dealt with better.”

You: “Really?” John snorted, carefully ranging his weight over Sherlock. He dropped his head to the crook of Sherlock’s shoulder, licking gently over the skin. “And what else would you like me to show you?” He bit hard at the skin, leaving a red bruise.

Stranger: “Anything,” Sherlock said, holding back a yelp of pain. “I’ve said it before, show me what you’ve got.”

You: John laughed darkly and moved down Sherlock’s body, kissing and nipping at the skin. He spent a few moments sucking each nipple into a hardened nub. John continued moving, settling between Sherlock’s legs. He blew on the head of Sherlock’s hardening erection then gripped the back of his thighs to lift his legs. “Take a deep breath,” John advised then dipped his head to lick at the cleft of his ass.

Stranger: Sherlock couldn’t hold back the yelp this time, the surprise making his head snap up to look at John’s back. “God!” he said, his eyes falling closed as John’s tongue slowly worked it’s way into his entrance. “John... is this... can you... naahh...”

You: John lifted his head and blew over the saliva-slicked skin. “Full sentences, Sherlock,” he teased, grinning. “What are you trying to say?”

Stranger: “What are you doing?” Sherlock managed, his eyes meeting John’s. “Where did you learn this?”

You: “It’s something I’ve known about for a long time,” John admitted, wondering how much he should say. “I’ve heard it’s an amazing feeling but I’d never had it done to me until a little while ago. I thought it might be interesting to try with you.”

Stranger: “Who?” Sherlock asked, his head dropping to the pillows on the bed. “Who did it to you?”

You: John sighed and pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s thigh next to his hand. “Greg,” he said softly, hoping this wouldn’t ruin the mood.

Stranger: “Please, keep going,” Sherlock hissed, lifting his hips slightly. “We’ll talk about that... later.”

You: “You sure?” John asked, meeting Sherlock’s eyes. He could see almost none of the silver-blue of the iris.

Stranger: “Please, John. Keep going,” Sherlock begged, his eyes locking with John’s. “Don’t stop.”

You: Letting his head dip again, John licked a few long stripes over Sherlock’s entrance. He could feel Sherlock’s muscles flexing underneath and around him and it was interesting. John worked his tongue in a circle, getting closer and closer to the center of Sherlock’s entrance.

Stranger: Sherlock moaned and bucked down without thinking, trying to draw John in closer. “Please...” Sherlock begged, his eyes falling closed again. “Please...”

You: John hummed in agreement and dipped his tongue inside the ring of muscle. He made a point with his tongue and thrust in further. He kept doing that, alternating with licks around the edge, working Sherlock open.

Stranger: Sherlock grunted as John worked himself into Sherlock’s entrance, trying hard not to buck down on John again, not wanting to hurt the doctor. He gripped the backboard with his hands and moaned as John worked him open.

You: John could see that Sherlock had hardened completely now, his erection bobbing against his stomach. He pushed with on Sherlock’s thigh, silently telling the detective to keep his leg where it was. Then he wrapped his fingers around Sherlock’s erection, stroking in counterpoint to his tongue.

Stranger: Sherlock cried out as John’s fingers took his member in his hand. “Nahh... John...” he cried out, struggling to hold his leg where John had told him to, his muscles feeling like they may give out any moment.

You: John thrust his tongue deeper into Sherlock, moving faster and harder. Now he understood why Greg enjoyed doing this; it was exhilarating to hear the noises Sherlock was making. But he didn’t want to end this too quickly. WIth a final lick around the loosened muscles, John sat back and released Sherlock’s erection. He slicked a saliva-covered hand down his erection and pushed slowly into Sherlock in one smooth movement.

Stranger: Sherlock started as John pushed into him, letting out a soft cry. “God... John-” His sentence was cut off by John’s lips, attacking his.

You: John kissed Sherlock desperately, nipping at his lips and sucking his lower lip into his mouth. He kept up a steady pace, pulling almost all the way out of Sherlock before pushing back in.

Stranger: Sherlock pushed his hips back into John’s, hoping to create more of a friction between them. His hand ran down his own body and took his member into his hand, pumping slowly.

You: John groaned as he broke their kiss to watch Sherlock’s hand. He pumped harder, breath panting. “What do you like, Sherlock?” John breathed. “How do you like to touch yourself?”

Stranger: Sherlock ran his thumb over the head and smeared the pre-come that was already there. “L-like this,” he moaned out, pumping his hand slightly faster, adding a twist at the end. “Please... don’t stop... move!”

You: John started moving again, his attention having been diverted by Sherlock’s hand. He thrust faster, sitting back a little bit so he could see a little clearer. “You’re gorgeous,” he whispered.

Stranger: “No.. that’s you, love,” Sherlock whispered, pumping harder. “Can you... take over?”

You: John nodded and gently pushed Sherlock’s hand aside. He wrapped his fingers around Sherlock’s erection and moved the same way Sherlock did. When he reached the head, he swiped his thumb over the top, spreading the pre-come there.

Stranger: Sherlock moaned and smiled, bucking up into John’s hand. “Fuck... John...” he muttered, his eyes fluttering closed.

You: John settled into a fast rhythm, driving both of them closer and closer to orgasm. He enjoyed hearing the little noises coming out of Sherlock’s mouth that mirrored his own. “You’re so tight around me, Sherlock,” John panted, leaning down to lick over Sherlock’s nipples.

Stranger: “You feel so good,” Sherlock muttered back, a yelp escaping his lips as John hit the bundle of nerves deep inside of him. “God.. do that again...”

You: John thrust in again at the same angle, grinning as Sherlock’s back arched up off the bed. He moved up to suck on Sherlock’s collarbone, worrying at the point of bone through the skin.

Stranger: Sherlock moaned and thrust up again, his mouth falling open in a silent “oh.” His head pushed into the pillows as he pushed his hips up.

You: John kept up the pace, hitting that bundle of nerves every other thrust or so. He watched Sherlock’s face avidly, drinking in the sight of the detective’s pleasure.

Stranger: Sherlock forced himself into a sitting position, one hand holding him up, the other one snaking around to rub at John’s back. He ran it down to John’s butt, circling John’s entrance before slipping a dry finger into the knuckle.

You: “Oh, oh god,” John keened, his back arching back as Sherlock’s finger sank inside him. With the extra sensation, it only took a few more thrusts before John orgasmed, his body bowed back and muscles locked.

Stranger: Sherlock moaned as John’s orgasm poured into him. “J-John!” he called out as he let his own orgasm go. He stilled his finger and bit his lower lip as the come went all over John’s hand and his own stomach.

You: After they shuddered through both of their orgasms, John let himself fall onto Sherlock’s chest and just breathe. He stroked a hand lazily over the other man’s chest and pressed kisses to his neck. “God, Sherlock,” John chuckled, aware he was repeating himself. “I think I’m going to wear out long before either of us is tired of this.”

Stranger: Sherlock nodded with a chuckle. “I agree, love,” he muttered, starting to move his finger again. “Mind if I continue? Or do you want me to stop?”

You: “No, you can keep going,” John said. “Just don’t expect me to be able to do much for a while.”

Stranger: “Come lay next to me,” Sherlock whispered, patting the bed next to him. “I want to watch your face.” He removed his finger and waited for John to move next to him. “Lay on your stomach, love.”

You: John moved over on the bed, turning his face towards Sherlock. Before he settled down, he kissed Sherlock quickly and smiled.

Stranger: Sherlock kissed John back and smiled as he settled next to him, his hand going to the small in John’s back. “You’ll tell me if you want me to stop, right love? I don’t want you get too worn out.”

You: “Sure,” John agreed sleepily. He wrapped one arm over Sherlock’s waist, looking into the detective’s quicksilver eyes.

Stranger: Sherlock ran his hand down to John’s cheeks, cupping one playfully. He gave it a squeeze before slipping between them. He worked his first finger in again and moved it around, bending it and watching John’s face carefully.

You: John let his eyes close, little moans dropping from between his lips. He rocked his hips a little, just enough to move Sherlock’s finger inside him.

Stranger: “You are beautiful,” Sherlock whispered, taking John’s lips with his own in a soft, sweet kiss; keeping it light and just a caress of lips as he fingered his lover. He slipped another finger after a while, keeping the movements slow.

You: “That feels good,” John whispered, blushing at the word beautiful. He edged closer to Sherlock, their bodies touching from shoulders to hips. “I love you. I know I say it a lot, but I do.”

Stranger: “I love you too, John,” Sherlock whispered, pecking his lips again. “So, when do you want the wedding?” He smiled as John’s eyes met his, shock edging the deep blue.

You: “Wedding?” John repeated, his brain still not completely working. “Ah, I don’t know.”

Stranger: “What about during the Autumn?” Sherlock whispered, smiling still. John’s eyes were coated in lust and Sherlock thought he never looked cuter. “Like I said before, love, I can just picture you in a white tux standing under a tree with the leaves blowing around you... You’d look like a dream. A beautiful dream that I get to have.”

You: “Autumn is... good,” John breathed, angling his hips up a little bit as Sherlock worked his finger in deeper. He leaned forward and pressed his lips to Sherlock’s, just a touch desperately.

Stranger: Sherlock held the kiss, letting John just caress his lips. “I’ll be standing with you, a tight black tux on while we whisper our vows, my hands in yours,” Sherlock muttered into John’s ear. “I do, John... I do for the rest of our lives. You’re mine, as long as you can put up with my weird ways for longer.” He chuckled lightly.

You: “I think I can do that,” John replied, lips curving up into a smile. He lifted his hand to Sherlock’s cheek, thumb running over his cheekbone. “You know, no one’s going to believe you’re really alive. I can’t wait to see Donovan’s face.”

Stranger: Sherlock shook his head and slipped a third finger in. “I can wait. I haven’t really missed her. Or Anderson. One of the benefits to being dead; you don’t have to deal with him.”

You: John groaned loudly, his eyes falling closed again. “Sherlock,” he breathed. “Feel so good. So deep inside me.”

Stranger: “Just relax, John,” Sherlock whispered, kissing John’s forehead. “I want you to just relax.”

You: John sighed but let his muscles go slack again. He leaned his head into Sherlock, breathing in the scent of the other man.

Stranger: Sherlock stroked John’s hair with his free hand as he worked his three fingers farther into his entrance. “I love you, John, don’t forget that,” he muttered, pressing a kiss to John’s temple.

You: “I know,” John replied, letting his hips move slowly with Sherlock’s fingers. He let his hand stroke lazily up and down Sherlock’s back. This felt more intimate than just about anything they’d done. This time, it was about touch and love rather than desire and lust.

Stranger: Sherlock closed his eyes and just focused on John’s warmth around his fingers. He focused on the man’s breathing and just the smell of John’s body near him.

You: A light sweat broke out over John’s body as they continued to lay there. All his muscles felt loose and relaxed. He didn’t bother to try stopping the little moans that continued to leave him, watching Sherlock’s face as the detective drank them in.

Stranger: Sherlock kissed John’s head again, leaving a trail of kisses along his lover’s forehead and down his neck.

You: This continued for several minutes, John trading gentle kisses with Sherlock. He felt himself getting aroused again but it was slow and gentle. It actually wasn’t as important right now as just feeling Sherlock’s skin against his own.

Stranger: “Want me to stop?” Sherlock muttered, nodding towards John’s hips before giving his lover another gentle kiss. “I don’t want to take you over the edge for a third time today... that may be too much.”

You: “No, I’m all right,” John shook his head, kissing Sherlock again. “And I think I could survive. How about you?” John looked down at Sherlock’s hips and grinned.

Stranger: Sherlock chuckled, noticing he was getting hard again. “I think I can live,” he chuckled. “I’ve never come close to the edge twice in one day before, but we’ll see what happens.” He kissed John back, keeping the movements in both his lips and fingers slow.

You: John laughed, moving his hand up to tangle his fingers in Sherlock’s hair at the base of his head. He brushed out the curls with his fingers, pressing kisses to Sherlock’s cheeks and forehead. Much as he was enjoying this, exhaustion was creeping up.

Stranger: He watched with a small smile as John yawned widely. “Am I not entertaining enough, love?” he joked, rubbing his nose against John’s.

You: “You are but I’m exhausted,” John replied, trying to stifle another yawn. He hugged Sherlock tightly for a few moments, nose pressed to his pulse point. “I think we should stop and get some sleep.”

Stranger: “Alright, love,” Sherlock whispered, slowly pulling his fingers out as John grunted at, what Sherlock could only guess was, the dryness. “Sorry, love.” He pulled him closer to his chest and kissed him gently.

You: John settled on his side next to Sherlock, his arm still slung over the other man. He kept the kiss going for a few moments but pulled back regretfully. “Night, love,” he whispered, settling his head on Sherlock’s shoulder.

Stranger: “Night, love,” Sherlock whispered back, placing one last kiss to his lover’s head before settling down and closing his eyes.

\----------------------------------------------------------------------

You: Mary yawned the next morning as she took a cab with Rene to Mycroft's office. Mycroft had kindly allowed them to sleep after their plane had landed at 1 AM. "You happy to be home?" Rene asked quietly, turning from his contemplation of the street passing by his window.

Stranger: "Very," Mary smiled, taking Rene's hand and giving it a gentle squeeze. "Thank you again for saving me."

You: "You're very welcome," Rene replied, grinning back and wrapping his fingers around Mary's. "What do you think Mycroft is going to do with both of us?"

Stranger: "My guess is that he's going to go over what we observed then reassign us," Mary said, leaning towards her boyfriend. "What about you?"

You: "I don't know," Rene admitted, shaking his head. "The only things I know how to do are guarding a drug lord and being an enforcer for said drug lord. I don't even know if Mycroft will keep his end of the bargain I made with Sherlock."

Stranger: "He will," Mary reassured. "Mycroft is many things, but he's not completely heartless." Mary pressed a kiss to Rene's cheek. "Besides, you can always stay with me at my place if Mycroft can't help."

You: "That's kind of you," Rene sighed. "But I don't want to be dependent on you. Maybe he can find me a job here in London. Or assign me as your bodyguard or something."

Stranger: "You don't have to be dependent on me," Mary said, shaking her head. "You can stay at my place while you get your feet on the ground; get a job, raise some money, all of that. Then, if you don't want to continue staying with me... You can move out." Mary shrugged one shoulder. "It's all up to you, but that's an option, so you know."

You: "Thank you, Mary," Rene replied, pulling her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles. "I am pleased to have met you and rescued you." Before Mary could reply, the cab came to a stop and the driver turned around. "Diogenes club," he announced.

Stranger: "You make it sound as though this is the end," Mary said, following Rene out of the car. "As through Mycroft is splitting us up somehow."

You: Rene shrugged and looked up at the imposing facade of the building. "I don't know," Rene repeated. "I hope he doesn't split us up but I believe it may be likely. After all, I'm fairly useless as an agent and he can always reassign you."

Stranger: “So if he does reassign me we’re done?” Mary asked, frowning. “I’m confused on what you’re saying.”

You: “No, I’m not saying that,” Rene shook his head, turning away from the facade to look at Mary. “But we may not have a choice but to be separated for a while.”

Stranger: “I know,” Mary said, dropping her gaze to the sidewalk. “Maybe you can come with me. But if you can’t, again, you can stay at my flat while you look for a job. I don’t mind.”

You: “Well, standing out here and worrying isn’t going to help anything,” Rene said, squaring his shoulders. “Let’s go meet your boss.”

Stranger: Mary nodded, squeezing Rene’s hand in hers before leading the way. She led him to the front desk, checked in, and then up to Mycroft’s office. She knocked quietly twice and waited for the muffled, “Come in,” before opening the door and letting herself into the room, Rene on her heels.

You: “Please, sit,” Mycroft said, looking up from the report he was reading and motioning towards the chairs in front of his desk. He waited until Rene and Mary had seated themselves before ringing for some tea.

Stranger: “Nice to meet you, sir,” Rene said, holding his hand out to Mycroft. “I’m Rene.”

You: “Hello,” Mycroft replied, eyeing Rene’s hand but not moving to take it. “You are the man who helped Sherlock and rescued Mary, yes?”

Stranger: “Yes, sir,” Rene said, lowering his hand when he realized Mycroft wasn’t going to shake it. He cleared his throat before continuing. “Thank you, by the way. You had as much of a part of saving me as your brother.”

You: “You’re welcome. Now the question is what to do with you,” Mycroft mused, tapping a finger on his desk. He hadn’t missed the little signs as the two walked in telling him that they were a couple. Mycroft could also tell Mary was barely hanging on to her composure as it was.

Stranger: “I’m afraid the only experience I have, sir, is with guns. I was raised by the drug dealer,” Rene said, shaking his head slightly. “I hope you can still find some way to use me, regardless.”

You: Mycroft saw Mary open her mouth and looked at her until she shut it again. She was one of his more experienced agents and knew how he worked. “And if you had a choice?” Mycroft asked Rene.

Stranger: “On what, sir?” Rene asked slowly, meeting Mycroft’s icy gaze but holding it.

You: “On what you would be doing,” Mycroft elaborated, sitting back in his chair. He looked from Rene to Mary, cataloguing each’s reaction to his question. Mary was dubious but hopeful while Rene was thoughtful.

Stranger: “I’d do anything you’d need done,” Rene said, nodding at Mycroft. “I’ll do all I can to help bring down the drug dealers. I understand you have some of the best agents in all of the world, but did any of them grow up raised by the leader of one? I doubt it, sir. I was trained in this sort of field, I know the secrets. I’ll help you all I can, use all my knowledge.”

You: “What about Mary?” Mycroft continued, changing tack. “It hasn’t escaped my notice that you two are involved. What happens if I send you to one place and her to another?”

Stranger: “We’ll work through it,” Rene said, giving Mary a reassuring glance. “We’ll see each other when we can. We both understand what you need done and I’m sure we can handle a little distance for a little while. There’s ways of communicating.”

You: Mycroft steepled his hands under his chin and studied both of them. He liked what he saw in Rene and finally believed that Sherlock had not made a mistake helping the young man. Mary had her hands clasped firmly in her lap to avoid fidgeting under Mycroft’s gaze. It was something she’d never gotten used to. “Very well,” Mycroft finally said. “I think there may be something we can work out.”

Stranger: Rene couldn’t help sending Mary an excited smile, his hand going over and taking her knee. “That’s great, sir,” he said, turning back to Mycroft, his hand still on Mary’s knee. “Thank you so much!”

You: “Don’t thank me yet,” Mycroft warned, though a smile danced at the corners of his lips. Rene didn’t bow before him, merely accorded him enough respect to not be rude. “There will be much work ahead of you.”

Stranger: "I am prepared to do all I need to," Rene repeated, nodding. "I expect you want my number? My guess is you want to be able to contact me whenever you need to, correct?"

You: "No, I am going to give you another phone so that Desmond cannot track you," Mycroft replied, holding out a hand for Rene's phone. "Mary has told me in the past he's made a study of keeping track of every single one of his operatives. Then, I am going to put you through training to become one of my operatives."

Stranger: "Thank you," Rene said, reaching into his pocket and retrieving his phone, handing it to Mycroft. "If I may ask, where is this training located?"

You: "An undisclosed location," Mycroft replied, smiling a bit as Mary laughed. "He never tells us where we're going," she explained to Rene. "That way, you concentrate only on the training and not on family. At least, that's his explanation for it."

Stranger: Rene chuckled and shook his head. "That makes sense, I guess," he muttered, turning back to Mycroft. "And how long does the training take? So I can pack accordingly."

You: "About a month," Mycroft replied, pulling out a file and opening it on his desk. "Mary, I will be sending you as well. The psychologists that oversee the training will be able to help you with the trauma you've experienced. I would also like for you to go through a refresher course once you are deemed ready for it."

Stranger: "Alright," Mary nodded, leaning forward to get closer to the desk so Mycroft could go over the paperwork with her. She slipped her hand into Rene's behind the desk and gave it a gentle squeeze.

You: Rene squeezed back, breath blowing out in a silent sigh. This was far easier than he had expected from dealing with Sherlock. Sherlock could be very high-strung and precise, though Rene believed that Mycroft controlled that part of himself carefully. He tuned out the specifics of what Mary and Mycroft were discussing, just waiting until they were done.

Stranger: Mycroft handed Mary a pen to sign off on the papers that required signatures and initials. It was all a smooth process and one that Mycroft had done many times before. Once she was done, he turned to Rene and held a pen out for him.

You: "What am I signing?" Rene asked, taking the pen but twiddling it in his fingers. His time with Desmond had taught him to be wary of people.

Stranger: "Waivers, forms; the usual pack of papers," Mycroft said, leaning back in his chair. "You were listening to Mary’s and my conversation, correct?"

You: "Not really," Rene shrugged. "It didn't seem to have anything to do with me. I would like to read everything before I sign. Dealing with Desmond has given me a rather large dose of paranoia."

Stranger: "Than by all means," Mycroft said, pushing the pack of ten or so pages at Rene across his desk. "Be my guest."

You: Rene took the papers and read through them quickly. He struggled slightly with the legal wording but made it through. He signed each paper as he was done, handing them back to Mycroft. Finally, he finished with the last paper and signed his name. "Now what?" he asked, handing Mycroft back the pen.

Stranger: "You'll be leaving in ten days," Mycroft said, stacking the papers against his desk and slipping them neatly into a drawer to sort later. "Do you have a place to stay till then?"

You: "With me," Mary said before Rene could speak. She gave Mycroft a determined glare, squeezing Rene's hand. "I already told him he can stay with me."

Stranger: "Very well," Mycroft nodded after a second's pause. "Then I shall see you guys back here in ten days; I'll text Mary the time."

You: "Thank you again," Rene said, standing up with Mary. He nodded at Mycroft then headed out, hand still twined with Mary's. They waited to speak until they were outside and Mary was hailing a cab. "He didn't seem so bad," Rene commented.

Stranger: "Wait until you have to deal with him more," Mary chuckled, shaking her head and watching as a cab pulled up to them. "He gets worse."

You: Rene helped Mary into the cab then followed after her, settling down and taking her hand again. He pressed another kiss to her knuckles and smiled. "At least he's letting us stay together," he said. "And giving me something to do."

Stranger: "Yeah, I'm glad of that," Mary said, scooting closer to Rene in the cab. "Gives us some time to get closer as well."

You: Rene nodded and they headed to Mary's apartment. He had some time before his entire life changed and he planned on making the most of it. The rest of the ride was spent talking and laughing as they made plans for their last week of freedom.

\---------------------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: Lestrade let the door swing shut behind him as he let out a long sigh. It had been a long day at work, three meetings, a talk with Anderson, and a case that kept him out late had him coming in, exhausted, just past midnight. He didn't know if Mycroft was still awake, so he tried to keep quiet as he moved to hang up his coat.

You: Mycroft heard Greg moving around and put away the papers he was trying to read. He walked into the living room as Greg walked in from the foyer and smiled. "Evening," Mycroft said, smiling. "Long day?"

Stranger: Lestrade nodded and tried to hide a yawn, failing horribly. "Horrible day too," he murmured, blinking a few times. "I swear, no one can do anything right..."

You: Mycroft walked to Greg's side and pulled him into a hug. He kissed Greg lightly then stepped behind him to rub at his shoulders. "You hungry?" Mycroft asked, rubbing up the side of Greg's neck. "I can warm something up for you."

Stranger: "That would be nice," Lestrade smiled sleepily over his shoulder. "Will you be joining me? I don't really want to eat alone, unless you're too tired, that is."

You: "I was waiting for you, love," Mycroft smiled, leaning forward and pressing a kiss to Greg's neck. "Come on, let's go." He took Greg's hand and looped it over his arm, leading the way into the kitchen. As Greg sat down, Mycroft moved around the kitchen putting together two plates to warm up.

Stranger: "And how was your day?" Lestrade asked over his shoulder as he listened to Mycroft behind him. "Anything interesting?"

You: "Somewhat," Mycroft said, moving back behind Greg to continue the shoulder massage. "My agent and the man who was helping Sherlock came in to my office today. Though, Sherlock managed to thwart my plans and stay in Paris, I'm assuming."

Stranger: "What? Why? I thought he would have been excited to get back and try to hook up with John again," Lestrade said, confused.

You: "I would think so too," Mycroft agreed, a little worry niggling at him. "John said he was going overseas to meet with someone about his book. What if...." He trailed off as a thought struck him, putting many pieces together. He'd thought Mary and Rene had been hiding something.

Stranger: "Love?" Lestrade asked, turning as Mycroft released him and quickly moved from the kitchen. Lestrade stood and followed him, not liking where this was going. "Mycroft, what's wrong?"

You: "John was in contact with Dean," Mycroft muttered, speaking quickly. "He'd been asking me questions about when Dean was coming back, trying to get me to bring him back quicker. What if John went to Paris to meet with Dean? Mary sounded like she was going to mention someone else when I spoke with her on the phone."

Stranger: "Would he do that?" Lestrade asked, following Mycroft, quickly, upstairs. "Where are you going, love?"

You: "I need my laptop," Mycroft explained, dashing into the bedroom and pulling his computer out of his bag. He booted it up and searched for John's name in the flight data for the past month and a half. And there it was: John headed to Paris.

Stranger: "Love, wait a minute," Lestrade muttered, sitting next to Mycroft, who just looked pissed off and on the verge of exploding on someone. "What's to say John found him?"

You: "Why else would he go to Paris?" Mycroft asked, biting off each word. "Damn it, I knew Sherlock getting involved with John as Dean was a bad idea." He snapped his laptop closed, putting it away with short, sharp movements.

Stranger: "But we have no way of knowing if John found him or not," Lestrade argued, wrapping his arms around his lover's waist and sitting on the bed. "Paris is a big place, love."

You: "I know but you didn't hear John when he was talking to me," Mycroft sighed, wanting to melt into Greg but still too angry. "I can almost guarantee that John found Sherlock."

Stranger: "But we don't know," Lestrade whispered, placing a kiss into Mycroft's hair and petting him gently. "For all we know, John found a publisher in Paris and its all a coincidence. We can't guarantee anything."

You: Mycroft sighed deeply and closed his eyes, letting Greg's touch soothe him. "There's a way to find out," Mycroft said quietly. "I could call John and talk to him about it."

Stranger: "Isn't it kind of late, baby?" Lestrade whispered, kissing Mycroft's ear. "Even if he is with Sherlock, we don't want to wake him. Plus, you need your sleep, too, love."

You: Mycroft checked his watch again, realizing that it was indeed very late. He sighed again and rested his head against Greg's shoulder. "I suppose it is," he murmured. "And our food is still downstairs. I suppose it can wait until morning."

Stranger: Lestrade pressed another kiss to Mycroft's temple and stood, taking the other man's hand in his. "Come on then, love," Lestrade whispered, pulling Mycroft up and into his arms. "Let's go eat, then we can curl up in bed and cuddle for a little while, if you want."

You: Mycroft followed without complaint, the smell of food drawing him on. He had waited to eat until Greg got back, hoping he would have come home sooner. In the kitchen, Mycroft pulled the plates out of the microwave and set them down so they could eat. "I swear, John and Sherlock are going to drive me crazy," he muttered, half to himself.

Stranger: "Maybe so," Lestrade said as his lover sat down across from him. "But wouldn't you do the same thing if you were in John's place? Or even in Sherlock's place? What if it was me you were forced to stay away from for three years? I know if I was in either of their places, I would probably do exactly what they did to get back to you."

You: Mycroft considered that as he chewed, looking off into the distance over Greg's shoulder. It made sense, but... "John doesn't even know Sherlock's alive," Mycroft pointed out. "If he did, yes I could understand it. But he barely knows Dean. What would drive him to seek him out then?"

Stranger: "Think about it love," Lestrade said after swallowing. "Sherlock, even as Dean, is still Sherlock. Parts of him are going to slip past the disguise. John is going to see parts of Sherlock in Dean, and he's going to want to be around that. Dean is someone that reminds John of Sherlock. If I were gone, wouldn't you want to hang out with someone who was like me? Reminds you of me?"

You: "I suppose," Mycroft grumbled, eating more of his food. There wasn't anything he could do about it now if John had indeed found Sherlock. The only thing he could do was keep pushing forward with his plans and hope the IOU really was gone.

Stranger: "Maybe Sherlock kept up the Dean act if they did find each other," Lestrade shrugged more to himself. "Would it matter? I doubt John would tell anyone anyway, especially if Sherlock told him not to."

You: Mycroft nodded and reached over the table to squeeze Greg's hand. John was a very careful man and he would do nothing to put either himself or Sherlock in danger. He sighed and relaxed, the initial anger and worry fading away. "Guess this means I might need to step up my efforts to fix Sherlock's reputation," he commented wryly.

Stranger: "It might, yes," Lestrade said, pushing his empty plate away and standing. He moved over to Mycroft's side of the table, who was finishing his plate as well. He started messaging the man's neck like he had done him. "But Sherlock's happy, if they did find each other. If John's with him, and he knows the truth, and Sherlock was able to tell him to his face how he feels, think how happy the two of them will be." He leaned over and pressed a gently kiss to Mycroft's cheek.

You: "You're right, love," Mycroft replied, closing his eyes and leaning his head against Greg's shoulder. "I suppose I won't get angry with either of them, especially since I probably would have done the same in their place. You ready for bed?" He turned his head to press a kis to Greg's cheek.

Stranger: "Yeah, but if you don't mind, I could really use a shower," Lestrade said, crinkling his nose. "I smell of sweat and Anderson... It's not very nice smelling."

You: Mycroft stood up and grabbed Greg's hand, pulling it to his lips to press a kiss to the palm. "Anderson get a new cologne?" he asked, leading the way upstairs. "That man has the worst taste I've ever seen or had the misfortune to smell."

Stranger: "In all honesty, I really don't give a damn if he got a new cologne or not. He smells God awful and I want to get the smell off my skin," Lestrade growled, wrapping his fingers between Mycroft's and giving him a gentle squeeze. "I hope you can help me with it."

You: Mycroft smiled and started working on the buttons of Greg's shirt as they walked. It was awkward, causing both of them to laugh. He had the shirt almost off by the time they made it to the bedroom and pulled Greg in for a heavy kiss.

Stranger: Lestrade hummed into the kiss, wrapping his arms around his lover's waist and holding him close. "Baby," he murmured against his lips. "Take a few steps back. To the wall, love."

You: "Why?" Mycroft asked, tilting his head in confusion. "I thought you wanted a shower." He smiled slowly at Greg, sliding the unbuttoned shirt down his shoulders.

Stranger: "I do," Lestrade said, smiling back and gently pushing back on Mycroft's shoulders until he was against the wall. "But I want to undress you nice and slowly."

You: Mycroft didn't struggle, just dropped his arms to his sides and waited. He kissed Greg lightly on the lips before leaning back and putting his weight against the wall.

Stranger: Lestrade ran his hands down Mycroft's arms, then landed them on his hips before pulling up. The shirt bundled under Mycroft's arms and Lestrade deepened the kiss by brushing his tongue over Mycroft's lips.

You: Mycroft let his mouth open just a little, poking his tongue out to lick playfully at Greg's. The shirt was getting a little uncomfortable, so he lifted his arms and arched an eyebrow at Greg, silently asking him to take it off.

Stranger: Lestrade lifted the shirt off and dropped it to the floor. He ran his hands over Mycroft's chest and down to his rounder stomach, going down the middle then out to the sides. "I love you," he muttered against Mycroft's lips.

You: "I know," Mycroft whispered back, their lips just barely touching as he spoke. He stepped forward from the wall and into Greg's space, keeping their lips barely touching. "What are you going to do now?"

Stranger: "What do you want?" Lestrade whispered back, placing a light kiss on Mycroft's lips before pulling back so they just brushed.

You: "Why don't you go shower while I think about it?" Mycroft suggested, a sly grin on his face.

Stranger: "So I'll be alone?" Lestrade asked, frowning. "Can I at least get help with my clothes?"

You: Mycroft undid the button and zipper on Greg's pants and slid them down. "You don't have to be alone if you don't want to be," Mycroft said, placing a kiss on Greg's shoulder.

Stranger: "I don't," Lestrade smiled, pulling Mycroft towards the shower and stepping out of his pants. "I want you."

You: Mycroft smiled and turned the shower on, pressing Greg against the wall while he waited for the water to warm. He stole gentle kisses while running his hands down Greg's chest.

Stranger: Lestrade undid the button on Mycroft's pants and let them fall, hooking his thumbs in the waistband of his boxers and letting them follow soon after.

You: Mycroft stepped out of his pants and boxers, leaving them in a pile on the floor. He pulled Greg's boxers down and gently pushed on his shoulders until he stepped out of them. By now, the water was warm and Mycroft nudged Greg into the shower.

Stranger: Lestrade let Mycroft push him back into the shower, stepping over the step and trusting Mycroft to push him into the wall and not let him trip. He held onto Mycroft's hips as he was nudged back.

You: Mycroft pressed kisses to Greg's neck and shoulders as he reached for the shampoo then squeezed some onto Greg's head. He worked it in with deft, sure movements, massaging his scalp through his hair.

Stranger: "Emmmmm, feels good," Lestrade hummed, leaning into Mycroft's touch. He pressed his whole body against Mycroft's and placed lazy kisses to his cheek.

You: Mycroft let his hands slide down out of Greg's hair, moving to his neck and massaging there. Then, he angled the showerhead so that the water fell on Greg's head. "Rinse off, love," he said softly.

Stranger: "You just want to see me all wet," Lestrade joked, stepping into the water.

You: "I do rather enjoy the view," Mycroft smirked, letting his gaze rake down Greg's body. The DI was fit and the water skated along his muscles.

Stranger: "I want to see you in the same way," Lestrade growled, smiling. "You're beautiful when you're wet."

You: "Budge up then," Mycroft laughed, skimming his fingers over Greg's back. He waited until Greg had moved then stepped under the water, soaking his hair. "Better?"

Stranger: "Almost," Lestrade smiled, pulling Mycroft farther under the water till it cascaded over his whole body. "That's better. You're so wonderful."

You: "You are too," Mycroft hummed happily, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. Showers were always something he'd enjoyed, even before Greg had come into his life. "What were your plans next?"

Stranger: "Don't know," Lestrade hummed, stepping forward and nipping Mycroft's exposed neck. "Beautiful," he whispered as he worked the skin, repeating it quietly every take he pulled back enough. "Beautiful."

You: Mycroft leaned into Greg slightly, eyes still closed. He wrapped his arms around Greg's waist and stroked gently with his fingers. "I like these plans," Mycroft murmured, smiling.

Stranger: “As do I,” Lestrade smiled into the skin, licking a path up to his lover’s ear through the water. “Is there something you had planned?”

You: “Nothing particular yet,” Mycroft replied and had to tilt his head out of the water when a yawn overtook him. “Though perhaps sleep? It’s getting more difficult to keep my eyes open. I have a day off tomorrow, though.”

Stranger: “Lucky you,” Lestrade said, running his hands down Mycroft’s body before reaching over to take the bar of soap. “I have to go into the office.”

You: “You know, I could always put in a request for you to have a personal day,” Mycroft replied, smiling. “The superintendent still owes me a favor. And I would love to have you to myself for the day.”

Stranger: “I’d love that, but we have a case going on right now that really needs solving and…” Lestrade paused, thinking it over. “Well… I mean, I can hand it down to Anderson for one day…”

You: “If you think Anderson can handle it,” Mycroft replied doubtfully. He’d made a careful study of each of Greg’s team and Anderson worried him. Even if it meant losing the day, Mycroft thought that Anderson probably shouldn’t be in charge.

Stranger: "I'll just tell him to do the paperwork that needs to be done so far," Lestrade shrugged. "He shouldn't be in charge of the fieldwork for... Obvious reasons."

You: “All right,” Mycroft nodded, smiling and pressing a kiss to Greg’s lips. “You know, you might want to consider giving Sally Donovan more of a command role. She’s very competent.”

Stranger: “I don’t trust either of them, really,” he muttered, leaning into the kiss. “The fieldwork will be on pause just for a day. It would have had to be done anyway with all the paperwork that’s coming in for it. Might as well get Anderson to get it out of the way now.”

You: Mycroft hurried through the rest of his shower, fighting back yawns. He wanted a little time before they both fell asleep. When he was done, he hugged Greg then stepped out, towelling off quickly.

Stranger: Lestrade watched Mycroft rush through his shower, getting out to towel off a good five minutes before Lestrade was ready. “What’s the rush, love?” he asked as Mycroft hung his towel back up and turned his back on Lestrade to start towards the door.

You: “My day started before dawn,” Mycroft explained, unable to stop the yawn in the middle of his sentence. “I have a feeling I won’t be able to stay up too much longer and I want to have you before we fall asleep.”

Stranger: “What would you like to do?” Lestrade asked, finishing rising off and stepping out of the shower, bending back in to turn the water off.

You: “I want to run my hands all over you and drive you crazy,” Mycroft whispered, watching Greg’s reaction closely. “I want you begging and writhing just from my fingers alone.”

Stranger: Lestrade felt a pull as his member perked up in interest. “Oh?” he asked, fighting a smile to keep a straight face. “I might need to make you work pretty hard to have me like that; even if you were to wrap your beautiful lips around my cock.”

You: Mycroft saw the tightening of muscles in Greg’s back and the pulse jump in his neck. He grinned to himself, loving how he could turn his lover on with words. “I think I can manage, even without my lips,” Mycroft replied smugly.

Stranger: “You think so?” Lestrade asked, raising an eyebrow and finally reaching for a towel. “I’d like to see you try, my love.”

You: “Meet me in bed, Greg,” Mycroft said, a glint of challenge in his eyes. “I’ll try to our heart’s content.” He walked out of the bathroom without a backward glance, dropping his towel along the way. Mycroft could hear Greg moving in the bathroom and slid between the sheets of their bed.

Stranger: Lestrade dropped his towel in the corner of the bathroom and started to make his way down to the kitchen. If Mycroft was going to tease him, he’d do the same to him. He opened the fridge and started searching through for a bottle of unopened water.

You: Mycroft couldn’t believe his eyes when Greg walked out of the bathroom naked and bypassed the bed to leave. He listened to the footsteps as Greg walked, wondering what the man was planning. Whatever it was was devious; he’d definitely been interested in the sight of his lover walking around naked.

Stranger: “Did you want a water, Mycroft?” Lestrade called up as he popped open the cap of the bottle. He took a long swig and leaned against the counter, the cold tile making him hiss as it hit his bare back.

You: “No thank you,” Mycroft replied, shaking his head. “What are you doing, love? I heard something that sounded like a hiss.”

Stranger: “What if I said I was wanking off in the kitchen, love?” Lestrade called back, smiling to himself. He knew that was going to get Mycroft if nothing else did.

You: “I would ask why you were doing it in there rather than letting me watch,” Mycroft replied dryly, a grin pulling at his lips.

Stranger: “Would you touch me if I did?” Lestrade chuckled, finishing his water and setting the glass near the sink.

You: “I might,” Mycroft answered, laughing. “Would you like me to?” The thought had him shifting in bed, the sheets rubbing against his hardening flesh.

Stranger: “I might,” Lestrade said, starting quietly up the stairs. He appeared in the doorway and crossed his arms over his chest, leaning against the doorway. “What would you like?”

You: “I think I’d like you to come over here,” Mycroft beckoned, lifting the blanket to make space for Greg. “After that, I’ll show you.”

Stranger: Lestrade moved over to the bed and sat down on the edge. “What if I don’t want to lay down?” Lestrade smiled, leaning over and kissing Mycroft on the lips.

You: “Then I hope you can keep your balance,” Mycroft replied. He reached up and grabbed Greg’s hand, flattening it out in his own. Then he pressed Greg’s hand to his own chest, rubbing slowly down towards his groin.

Stranger: Lestrade watched Mycroft’s hand as he guided him, his eyes tracing the path as they went. “Love,” Lestrade whispered, leaning down again to kiss his lover. “Keep going.”

You: Mycroft kissed back but decided to tease as much as he’d been teased. He glided Greg’s hand over to his hip, bypassing where the other man wanted him to go. He squeezed, causing Greg’s hand to tighten on his hip.

Stranger: “Must I do everything?” Lestrade asked, leaning forward just enough that their lips brushed as he talked. “Or are you going to finish what you started like a good boy?”

You: “You’re impatient, love,” Mycroft replied, teasing at Greg’s lips with his tongue. “If you want me to be in control, you should learn to be patient.” He slid Greg’s hand back up his chest, manipulating his fingers to roll his nipples between them.

Stranger: “Fine then,” Lestrade smiled, leaning back till he was laying down on the bed. “Do as you wish. I want to see you take over.”

You: Mycroft grinned, waiting until Greg was completely settled on the bed. Then he took Greg’s hand again, laying it against his neck. “Good boy,” Mycroft murmured, stroking Greg’s hand over his neck and down to his collarbone.

Stranger: “Am I a dog?” Lestrade asked dryly, locking eyes with Mycroft. He noted the loving twinkle in his lover’s eyes and couldn’t help but let a small smile cross his face.

You: “That could be an interesting game,” Mycroft joked, laughing. “But no, you’re not a dog, love. But you are behaving and therefore you get a reward.” Mycroft decided not to tease anymore and moved Greg’s hand down his chest. He didn’t hurry but neither did he drag it out. Finally, he wrapped Greg’s fingers around his erection, moving his hand up and down.

Stranger: “Em, Mycroft,” Lestrade murmured, closing his eyes and smiling. He leaned over to kiss Mycroft slowly, keeping it slow and passionate with much needed heat.

You: “Yes, Greg?” Mycroft asked, shifting so he could trail his nails over Greg’s leg with his other hand. He moved their hands faster, wondering how long it would take for Greg’s hips to start pumping up into his hand.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned softly and brought his hips up, trying to get more friction from the other man. “I need you,” he whispered into Mycroft’s ear. “So bad. What are you going to do to me, love? Tell me what you’re going to do.”

You: “I’m going to keep your fingers wrapped around your cock,” Mycroft growled, looming over Greg. “And I’m going to keep making you fuck yourself. Then, if I’m feeling nice and that you’ve earned it, I may finger you until you come.”

Stranger: Lestrade couldn’t help the moan that escaped his lips. “Oh God, Mycroft,” he muttered, his eyes coating over in lust. “Please… Please, I’ll do anything.”

You: “Keep begging for me, love,” Mycroft replied, leaning down and tracing over Greg’s lips with his tongue. “You have to convince me you want it.”

Stranger: “You know I do,” Lestrade growled, trying to lean up to kiss Mycroft fully only to have the other man pull away. “Please, love.”

You: “Show me,” Mycroft told him, taking his hand away from Greg’s. He sat back, making sure none of his body was touching the other man’s.

Stranger: Lestrade paused for a moment before he started to pump his hand faster. His eyes closed and his mouth fell open in a silent scream. “My-Mycroft,” he moaned as he flicked his wrist at the head. “God.. M-Mycroft…”

You: “That’s it, love,” Mycroft whispered, licking over his lips as he watched. He could feel his own hips moving slightly in unison with Greg’s hand. “Does it feel good, touching yourself while I watch?”

Stranger: “Y-yes,” Lestrade muttered as he started pumping his own hips into his hand. “I always give a good hand job.” He chuckled lightly, keeping his eyes closed and speeding up his hand.

You: “Want me to help you now?” Mycroft asked, edging closer to Greg and blowing gently on his skin. “Want me to touch you, love?”

Stranger: “P-please,” Lestrade begged, nodding. “I need you to touch me.”

You: “All right,” Mycroft replied, pressing a kiss to Greg’s shoulder. He waited until Greg opened his eyes then hovered his hand over his chest. Moving slowly, Mycroft kept his hand just above Greg’s skin. “Where do you want me to touch?”

Stranger: “Everywhere,” Lestrade whispered. “Please, Myc, I need you so bad…”

You: “I love hearing you beg,” Mycroft murmured, voice hoarse. He pressed his fingers to Greg’s collarbone, putting enough pressure on to turn Greg’s skin white under his fingertips. He skimmed down and rolled Greg’s nipple between his fingers. “Don’t stop touching yourself, love,” Mycroft ordered, noticing that Greg’s hand had slowed.

Stranger: Lestrade nodded and picked the pace back up, swiping his thumb over the opening in the head to smear the pre-come that had already built there. He kept his eyes locked on Mycroft’s and focused on his fingers.

You: “Good,” Mycroft approved, leaning down to kiss Greg on the lips. “Spread your legs apart a bit, love.”

Stranger: Lestrade did as he was told, making sure to keep the movement of his hand going. “Please…”

You: Mycroft moved and grabbed the bottle of lube he kept in his nightstand. He settled between Greg’s legs, flicking open the cap and coating his fingers. Rubbing his fingers together to warm them, Mycroft circled Greg’s entrance. Once he was slick, Mycroft slowly worked one finger inside.

Stranger: Lestrade hissed slightly and bucked down onto Mycroft’s finger, trying to get his lover deeper inside of him. He moaned heavily and dropped his head back into the pillows.

You: Mycroft laughed and pushed in deeper before pumping in and out a few times. He pulled his finger out then slipped two back in, not bothering to go slowly this time. “How’s that, Greg?” Mycroft asked.

Stranger: “So good,” Lestrade whispered, trying to lean up and catch Mycroft’s lips. “Kiss me, please.” He begged, his eyes filled with lust as he looked at his lover.

You: Mycroft leaned over and met Greg’s lips, thrusting his tongue inside Greg’s mouth. He kissed hard, moving his tongue with his fingers. When Greg was moaning and writhing against him, Mycroft pushed a third finger inside him and crooked them to find Greg’s prostate.

Stranger: Lestrade yelped as Mycroft’s fingers found the sensitive nerves deep inside him. He bucked up into Mycroft’s hips and whimpered slightly. “Please, fuck me… fuck me, Mycroft…”

You: “Tut, tut,” Mycroft responded, tilting his head to suck at the skin under Greg’s jaw. “I told you, I want you coming while I’m fingering you open, love. Then, I may fuck you. It all depends on how good a show you give me.”

Stranger: Lestrade pumped his hand around himself faster, closing his eyes again. “I’ll do anything,” Lestade whispered, arching his hips into his own hand. “Please, love, tell me what you want to see.”

You: “I want to see you pleasing yourself,” Mycroft replied, shifting back to a more comfortable position. “I want to see you make yourself orgasm.” He leaned down and licked over Greg’s hipbones.

Stranger: Lestrade moved his hand quicker and twisted the head, moaning as he did so. “Please, keep moving your fingers.”

You: Mycroft allowed him that little request, thrusting in harder. He watched Greg’s hand avidly, tongue licking over his lips again. Another drop of pre-come leaked out of the head of Greg’s erection and Mycroft leaned forward to swipe his tongue over it.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned loudly as Mycroft’s tongue swiped across the head of his member. “A-are you going to… to suck me?” Lestrade asked, looking down at Mycroft’s head hovering over his erection.

You: “Not tonight, love,” Mycroft replied, his breath ghosting over Greg’s skin. “This is about you letting me watch you. I just had to taste.”

Stranger: Lestrade groaned and dropped his head back down. “You fucking tease,” he muttered, starting to move his hand again.

You: Mycroft just laughed again and licked over Greg’s hipbones. He really enjoyed doing that. “But you love it,” he replied. He continued to watch as Greg’s hand worked over his erection, the sound of skin on skin incredibly erotic.

Stranger: “I do,” Lestrade nodded, chuckling. “Please, do something more with your fingers, slide another one in, do something.”

You: Mycroft felt himself flush, hearing Greg begging like that. He poured a little bit more lube on his fingers and slipped a fourth finger inside, spreading them a little to stretch Greg open. “Like that, love?” he whispered.

Stranger: Lestrade hissed as the new finger was added, having never been stretched this much before. “Yes,” he hissed, nodding. “Yes, more…”

You: “Are you sure about that?” Mycroft asked, a thread of worry running through his voice. “I don’t want to hurt you, love.” He pulled his fingers out slowly then eased them back in. They went in smoothly and Greg didn’t look like it hurt.

Stranger: “I’m sure,” Lestrade nodded, smiling slightly. “You feel so good, my love. Please, keep going.” He moved his hand faster and moaned loudly.

You: “Tell me if it hurts,” Mycroft told him. He pulled his fingers out and added more lube, generously re-coating all of his fingers. Then, Mycroft tucked his thumb against his other fingers and pushed them back inside Greg. Greg was loose and took him easily, Mycroft’s fingers sliding in to the last knuckle. “My god, Greg, you’re gorgeous like this,” Mycroft breathed, eyes alternating between Greg’s hand on his erection and his fingers buried inside him.

Stranger: Lestrade hummed and pushed down on Mycroft's fingers. "Love, please, move," Lestrade begged, moving his hips. "Need you."

You: "As long as you do too," Mycroft replied. He started to move his fingers in and out, stretching Greg even further. He had to palm over his own erection, which was throbbing due to lack of attention. He didn't press hard, not wanting to orgasm before this was all over.

Stranger: Lestrade noticed Mycroft palming himself and reached down with his free hand, batting him away. "Let me," he whispered, cupping Mycroft's balls in his hand.

You: Mycroft moaned as Greg fondled him, his hips bucking forward into Greg's hand. "As long as you don't stop stroking yourself," Mycroft replied, smiling into Greg's eyes. He watched as Greg pumped his hand over his erection, thumb sweeping over the head on the upstroke.

Stranger: "I won't," Lestrade whispered, rolling Mycroft's balls in his palm. "Do you like this, love? Do you like me touching you?”

You: "Yes," Mycroft murmured. He matched the pace of his fingers to Greg's hand, pulling them almost all the way out before thrusting back in. "Though, if you don't hurry, I may come before I get a chance to fuck you."

Stranger: "So you are going to fuck me?" Lestrade asked, smiling and leaning up, with some difficulty, to peck his lover on the lips. "Plans change? Well, I'll tell you, it won't be... Be tight." He stuttered over the last bit as Mycroft shoved his hand back in and spread his fingers, his whole basically up his ass. "God, are you going to push your whole hand in?"

You: Mycroft tilted his head as he studied Greg. The other man was covered in a sheen of sweat, his hand working furiously at his erection. Smiling, Mycroft shook his head. "Not this time, I think," Mycroft mused. "I have other plans which I'd really like to see through." He withdrew his fingers, looking expectantly at Greg's face.

Stranger: "Why'd you stop?" Lestrade whined, frowning at Mycroft.

You: "Aren't you supposed to be doing something for me, love?" Mycroft prompted, nodding at Greg's hand.

Stranger: Lestrade continued to keep his hand moving but still frowned at Mycroft. "So you're just going to stop?" he asked, shifted over a little so his body was touching Mycroft.

You: "You keep getting distracted, Gregory dear," Mycroft chided playfully. He teased around the edge of Greg's entrance with one finger, tracing the loosened muscles.

Stranger: "I can't help it. You're touching me," Lestrade muttered, kissing Mycroft's chest. He snuggled closer and opened his legs more so Mycroft could get a better angle.

You: Mycroft withdrew his finger again, laughing at the angry look Greg shot him. "And see, that's why I'm stopping," Mycroft told him. "I want to see you come for me, without me touching you and distracting you."

Stranger: Lestrade moaned and dropped back down onto the pillows. "But love-" he started, cutting off when Mycroft shot him a look.

You: "I want you to do this," Mycroft said softly, his eyes turning soft. "I want to watch you, love. I enjoy seeing your hands on you."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded and moved his free hand down to his own hip. His hand on his member slipped down to cup his own balls and he moaned loudly. "Can you tell me what to do, maybe?"

You: "I can do that," Mycroft replied, nodding eagerly. "I want you to wrap your other hand around the head, just teasing."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded and moved his other hand to his member, teasing one finger around the head and smearing the pre-come. "Keep going, love."

You: "I want you to squeeze both of your hands, slowly increasing the pressure until it's just this side of pain," Mycroft continued, licking over his lips again. "Then I want you to pump down your cock, keeping the pressure up."

Stranger: Lestrade squeezed gently till he found his point of pain then started to pump slowly. He hissed a sigh as he pumped and closed his eyes, wetting his lips as he did so.

You: "That's it, love," Mycroft encouraged, letting his fingers rest on Greg's leg. "Now, with your other hand, I want you to slide down and tease at your entrance. Feel how loose you are."

Stranger: Lestrade slid his hand down from his balls and easily slid two dry fingers into his entrance without much pain. "God," he whispered, spreading his fingers slowly. "So loose..."

You: "Feel good?" Mycroft asked, leaning forward unconsciously. "You look amazing, Greg. I could watch you for hours."

Stranger: "It feels good," Lestrade nodded. "Not as good as if it were you, but still good."

You: "Good," Mycroft repeated the word, smiling as he did so. "I want you to keep thrusting your fingers in and out while stroking your cock. Let yourself move."

Stranger: Lestrade pulled his two fingers out and slipped three in, hissing at the dryness. "Can you pass me the lube?" he chuckled, looking at Mycroft with lust coated eyes. "Maybe spread a little on my fingers and entrance so I don't have to let go of my cock?"

You: Mycroft nodded and dribbled lube over the fingers Greg still had inside himself. "That better?" he asked, smirking at Greg. "I can add more if you need it."

Stranger: "That should be fine," Lestrade said, moving his fingers quickly to work the lube in and get it over the rest of his fingers. "God, Mycroft, tell me what else I should do."

You: "Speed up a little bit," Mycroft replied, shifting on the bed. "I want you to do what makes you come, Greg."

Stranger: Lestrade nodded and started pumping both his hands faster, adding a twist to the head of his cock and smearing the come over the head. "Love, talk to me. I want to get close hearing your voice."

You: "Keep going, love," Mycroft murmured, eyes locked on Greg's hands. "You're pushing your fingers in so deep, Greg. I like watching you. You are gorgeous with your hips pumping up into your hand."

Stranger: Lestrade felt a pull in his stomach as it turned and pleasure pooled in his gut. "Love... I'm getting close," he whispered, fingering himself faster.

You: "Come for me, Greg," Mycroft told him, letting his fingers sweep over Greg's leg again. "I want to see you writhing on the bed, covering your hand, making it wet. I want to see you come while fingering yourself."

Stranger: Lestrade pumped faster, his hips bucking up to meet Mycroft's hand. He tightened his grip on his member and moved it faster, the pleasure building. "I-I'm gonna..."

You: "Let yourself go," Mycroft whispered, letting his fingers graze Greg's erection. He could tell Greg felt it intensely, his hips jerking up again.

Stranger: Lestrade bucked up hard and felt his orgasm spill from him. He moaned loudly and closed his eyes. "My-Mycroft!"

You: "That's it, love, I've got you," Mycroft soothed him, laying his hand over Greg's and slowing him. "Just ride it out, Greg." He didn't stop touching Greg now, letting his other hand stroke up Greg's leg and over his hip.

Stranger: Lestrade rode out his orgasm with shallow gasps for air. "My-Mycroft... Mycroft...Mycroft... love..."

You: Mycroft didn't say anything just yet, just ranged himself over Greg carefully after nudging his hands out of the way. "What is it?" he asked, pressing a kiss to the hollow of Greg's throat.

Stranger: "What are you going to do now?" Lestrade asked after his orgasm was finished and he was panting heavily.

You: "Now?" Mycroft asked, trailing his tongue up Greg's neck. "Now, I think I'm going to fuck you breathless. You gave me a perfect show, love." Mycroft grabbed one of Greg's thighs, tilting his leg up and back. He bucked forward, sheathing himself in Greg in one smooth glide.

Stranger: Lestrade yelped and bucked up to meet Mycroft's member. "Love," Lestrade moaned, sighing. "God, you waited till after my orgasm to do this?"

You: "I told you I was going to," Mycroft replied. He nipped at Greg's neck, leaving small red bites. He started pumping slowly, mindful that Greg was still sensitive.

Stranger: "I know," Lestrade muttered, dropping his head back to the pillows. "Please, go slow."

You: Mycroft nodded, turning his head to capture Greg's lips. He kept his hips moving steadily in long, drawn-out strokes. Mycroft could feel that he wasn't going to last long. He licked between Greg's lips, stroking with his tongue in a similar rhythm.

Stranger: Lestrade let his tongue dance with Mycroft's slowly, feeling his member hardening again. "T-touch me, please," he begged.

You: Mycroft sped up a little bit, pushing deeper inside Greg. He reached down between their bodies, dragging his fingers through the wet fluid on Greg's belly to wrap around his softened penis. He stroked carefully, fingers tracing the veins on the underside of the shaft.

Stranger: Lestrade moaned as he felt himself getting harder with each talented stroke of Mycroft's hand. "You're going to make me come again, aren't you?" he breathed, chuckling dryly.

You: "Only if you get that far," Mycroft replied, pressing a kiss to Greg's cheek. "It's not been that long for you." He picked up his pace again, holding Greg's leg up a little higher so that he could push in deeper. The friction and the heat was perfect and Mycroft felt his orgasm approaching quickly.

Stranger: "Come for me, Mycroft," Lestrade whispered, stroking the man's cheek with a finger. "I want to feel you deep inside me."

You: Mycroft groaned, turning his face into Greg's touch. "You're turn, love. Talk to me, please?" Mycroft asked.

Stranger: "I want you to move faster, hun," Lestrade whispered, repeating the motion with his finger over Mycroft's cheek. "I want you to bury yourself farther into me."

You: Mycroft did, pumping his hips forward as far as they would go before pulling back a short way. Every time he slammed back in, a small grunt escaped his mouth. Heat blossomed in Mycroft's chest and traveled down to his groin, almost unbearable. "Close," he moaned.

Stranger: "Finish for me, love," Lestrade whispered, bucked back on Mycroft. "Please, fill me."

You: Mycroft thrust once more, Greg's whisper finally drive him over the edge. He orgasmed hard, a scream drawn from his throat as his vision whited out. He collapsed down onto Greg's chest while riding it out, breath panting.

Stranger: Lestrade petted Mycroft's hair as the other man rode out his orgasm. "God, love," he murmured. "You feel so good."

You: When he caught his breath, Mycroft chuckled and carefully pulled out of Greg. He made himself get up and dampen a cloth to clean both of them up. He didn't want to collapse on the bed with the variety of fluids they were both covered in.

Stranger: Lestrade chuckled as he watched Mycroft clean himself before moving to run the cloth over his own skin. "Thanks," he smiled, watching Mycroft run the fabric over his stomach and enjoying the warm damp feeling on his skin.

You: "You're welcome, love," Mycroft said, tossing the cloth in their hamper. He got back into bed, settling down with his arm thrown over Greg's stomach. "And now, I really think it is time for sleep. I'm exhausted."

Stranger: "Agreed," Lestrade yawned, shifting closer to his lover. "I'll call work in the morning. Good night, love." Lestrade wrapped one arm around his lover's waist and closed his eyes, a small smile crossing his lips.

You: Mycroft sighed happily and made sleepy plans for tomorrow. He fell asleep in the middle of it, listening to Greg breathe next to him. And if they never got to any of those plans, that would be perfectly fine as well.

\------------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: Sherlock placed a hand on John's shoulder and shook him gently. It was early in the morning and this was the third time the detective tried to wake the doctor. "Love, you need to wake up," Sherlock whispered, pressing a kiss to John's cheek.

You: "Ngg, wassamatta?" John mumbled, batting at Sherlock's hand without even opening his eyes. Sleeping next to Sherlock was still wonderful and new and John slept better than he’d done in a long time.

Stranger: "We have to go," Sherlock whispered, pressing another kiss to John's face. "Or we'll miss our boat. Come on, love, you need to get up."

You: "Fine, fine," John growled, running his fingers through Sherlock's hair. He sat up and scrubbed a hand over his face then stretched. "How long do we have? Do we have time for breakfast?"

Stranger: "We have about three hours, so yes, a quick breakfast we have time for," Sherlock nodded, sitting up. He had gotten fully dressed already while he was trying to wake John up and had on his tight purple button up and black pants.

You: John nodded and got up, grabbing clothes without even looking from his back. He didn't even look closely at Sherlock, sleep still blurring his eyes. John ambled through his morning routine, smiling as he realized he was pulling his favorite jumper over his head.

Stranger: "I love that one," Sherlock muttered, wrapping his arms around John's waist and resting his chin on John's shoulder as John brushed his teeth. "You look adorable in it."

You: John finished with his teeth then smiled over his shoulder at Sherlock. He kissed Sherlock's cheek then said, "It's comfortable and warm. Plus, the cream is simple. And you're wearing my favorite shirt on you. The one that makes me want to rip it off you."

Stranger: "Wish you would," Sherlock chuckled, kissing John on the lips. "If we didn't have a boat to catch I'd let you too. But no, we have a nice ride back and will be in London in a few hour’s time."

You: "What do you want to do then?" John asked, pressing one last kiss to Sherlock's lips before walking out of the bathroom. He packed quickly, hoping to have time for a good breakfast before the boat. "I want you to move back into the flat but I know Mycroft is going to ask questions."

Stranger: "He might ask questions anyway, it's Mycroft," Sherlock shrugged watching John pack. "He will be able to tell something's up."

You: "I know he wasn't happy I was meeting with you after Moran was dead," John mused, finishing his packing. He turned to look at Sherlock then, surprised that the taller man was just standing there. "You going to pack?"

Stranger: "All my stuff never left my bag," Sherlock shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets. "And I know Mycroft wasn't happy; believe me, he told me how bad of an idea it was more than once; but I'm not letting you go again, John. I don't care what Mycroft says."

You: John grinned and walked forward to pull Sherlock's head down for a kiss. "Funny," John whispered against Sherlock's lips. "I feel the same way."

Stranger: Sherlock smiled against John's lips and pulled him closer by the hips. He let his tongue slip out and brush against John's lips till they opened up and Sherlock was allowed to explore John's mouth.

You: John closed his eyes and let Sherlock kiss him, his hands coming up to grip Sherlock's arms. This was something he planned to never take for granted, after all the time he'd spent imagining kissing Sherlock. Finally, John pulled back regretfully and said, "We should go. Breakfast."

You: "Sure," John nodded. "We should get crepes. I've never had authentic French crepes. I want to try them while we're here."

Stranger: "Sounds good to me," Sherlock smiled. "We'll leave in ten minutes, is that enough time for you?"

You: John nodded and gave Sherlock one more kiss. He walked around the room, making sure he had packed everything back into his bag. John really didn't want to leave anything behind. He finished up in the bathroom, filling a cup with water and taking a drink.

Stranger: Sherlock took his and John's bag to the front door, setting them next to each other so they were ready to take. He sat on the sofa and waited for John, knowing he wouldn't be too much longer.

You: John walked out after one last look and smiled at Sherlock. "Ready Sherlock?" he asked, holding out a hand for the other man.

Stranger: Sherlock nodded with a smile and took John's hand. "I'm ready, love," he smiled, stepping up to John and pressing a kiss to his cheek before dragging him towards the door and collecting his bag along with John's. "Do you know where you want to go?"

You: "Not really," John replied, taking his bag from Sherlock. He wanted the other man to have a free hand so he could claim it. "I was thinking we could get a recommendation or look for a restaurant near the pier so we can go right to the boat if we wanted."

Stranger: "That sounds best," Sherlock nodded, setting his bag down on the curb so he could hail a cab without letting John's hand go. "Plus we'll be right on the water, as well. It would be nice to watch the rest of the sun rise over the waves."

You: John smiled and chuckled. A cab stopped in front of them and John put both of their bags in the trunk. Once they were settled into their seats, John looked at Sherlock and chuckled again. "You still surprise me, you know," he remarked quietly. "You seem so indifferent to some things and then you say the most beautiful things. Like that time we were hunting the Golem and stargazing."

Stranger: "How so?" Sherlock asked, leaning over to lean on John. "Can you remind me what I said? I remember, of course; I remember everything I've ever said to you, done with you, or heard from you, but I want to hear you say it."

You: John had to laugh at Sherlock's words, though he was fairly certain the detective had a photographic memory. "You said that the stars were beautiful," John replied, thinking hard trying to remember the exact wording. "And when I said something about you not caring about them, you said that it didn't stop you from recognizing their beauty."

Stranger: "Sounds about right," Sherlock smiled, kissing John's neck lightly before sitting back up. He looked out the window and stayed quiet for a long moment of time, just watching the streets pass them by, his hand still holding John's. "Do you think we can climb to the roof of Baker Street sometime?" Sherlock asked quietly, his eyes locked out the window. "Stargaze again?"

You: John smiled and squeezed Sherlock's hand gently, waiting until the detective looked back at him. "Of course," he said gently. "We can even learn the constellations together, if you like."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and smiled as the cab stopped in front of the restaurant. "I'd like that," he smiled, opening the door and sliding out, waiting for John to follow.

You: John got out and walked around to the trunk, pulling out their bags and handing Sherlock his. He took Sherlock's free hand then walked into the restaurant. Touch was something John was going to take shameless advantage of, considering how often he'd wished he had before. They were seated quickly, a quick glance at their bags the only reaction they got.

Stranger: Sherlock was glad that they were seated by a window and that the sun was just getting ready to come out over the water. He pointed this out to John, who lit up with a huge smile taking over his face. Sherlock let his foot wrap around John's ankle under the table and turned back to the sun rise.

You: John watched as the sky went from a muted bluish-gray to brilliant reds and golds. The sun made the water shine like diamonds on blue felt. "You're different," John mused, turning to stare at Sherlock. "I know I've said that before and it's not bad. It's just... you seemed to have learned patience."

Stranger: Sherlock thought about this for a moment, sipping the water that had been given to them when they first sat down. "I don't feel like I've changed," he mused, watching the water. "Maybe it's because I have you back now. I feel like I want to... I don't know, slow down and enjoy time with you, I guess is how I'd describe it."

You: John was interrupted before he could reply with their appearance of their waiter. He already knew what he wanted and ordered strawberry crepes. "What about you, Sherlock?" John asked, turning to the other man. "You know what you're getting yet?"

Stranger: "Strawberry crepes sound great," Sherlock said and smiled up to the waiter. "Make it two orders, please."

You: "What do you want to do when we get back to London?" John asked curiously after taking a sip of his water. "Are you going to start working on cases again?"

Stranger: "Sooner or later, yes, I would like to pick up cases again," Sherlock said, frowning while he thought. "But when we first get back, I just want to go home."

You: "You'll have your room," John said quietly, looking out the window at the water again. For some reason, he couldn't look at Sherlock while he said this. "I boxed up a few things... but I couldn't touch anything else."

Stranger: "John?" Sherlock asked slowly, reaching across and placing his hand on John's. He waited for John to look at him. "John? Look at me, please?"

You: John met Sherlock's eyes, trying to smile but failing. "I know it's sentiment," John murmured.

Stranger: "No, John, listen to me," Sherlock said, squeezing John's hand and keeping his gaze. "Thank you for keeping my room and my stuff; it's sentiment, sure, but I'm glad you kept it. I know the years were hard, and I know I hurt you, and for all that, I'm very sorry. But now that I'm back, I don't want my room anymore."

You: "All right?" John said slowly, head tilting to the side in confusion. Then, it hit him and he smiled. "So, my room, then?"

Stranger: "I don't want your room either," Sherlock said, shaking his head. He gave John's hand another squeeze and locked their fingers together.

You: "We only have two rooms Sherlock," John chided the other man, a chuckle beneath his words. "Which room do you want?"

Stranger: "I want our room, John," Sherlock said, watching a smile take over John's lips. "And whichever room we don't take, I'll move all my lab stuff in there, and buy a mini fridge, that way our kitchen will be free of any experiments, seeing you're always complaining about that."

You: John grinned, the smile almost painful on his face. "Sounds perfect," he replied, squeezing Sherlock's hand again. Their waiter came back with the crepes, setting the plates down in front of them.

Stranger: Sherlock regretted it when John let go of of his hand to dig into the crepes; but the pure bliss look on his face when he took the first bite. "Good?" Sherlock asked. "And I hope you don't mind sharing a room with me."

You: John moaned quietly as his eyes closed in pure enjoyment. He chewed slowly, savoring the strawberry and sugar in the crepes. "Delicious," John replied, taking another bite and chewing that one as well. "I would love to share a room with you, Sherlock. I just wasn't sure how you wanted to deal with our relationship once we were back in the flat, whether you'd want a separate room."

Stranger: "I don't," Sherlock shook his head, enjoying watching John eat. "A separate room is too far from you." He reached over the table with his free hand and a small chuckle to brush a drip of strawberry from John's lips. He licked his finger clean and licked over his lips, keeping John's gaze.

You: "Bloody tease," John muttered, licking his lips as he watched Sherlock's tongue. He knew what that tongue could do when it came to words and was discovering what it could do with other pursuits. And when his mind wandered down those other pursuits, John determinedly thought about cold rains he'd been caught in and cleaning out sand from his gear in Afghanistan. Now was definitely not the time.

Stranger: "You look... Distracted," Sherlock smirked, licking over his lips again and picking up his fork and knife. His took a large bite and let a bit of the powder sugar coat his lips, humming as he chewed. "You were right; delicious."

You: "Distracted, yeah," John mumbled, his crepes forgotten as he stared at Sherlock. He wanted to lean over and lick the sugar off of Sherlock's lips, licking his own as he thought.

Stranger: "Eat up, John," Sherlock chided, licking his lips clean slowly. "We don't want to be late."

You: "Bloody tease, you really are," John grumbled but ate his mind-numbingly delicious crepes again. He kept his eyes on his own plate, making sure to lick his lips frequently to tease Sherlock as much as he could.

Stranger: Sherlock chuckled as he ate, shaking his head. He saw John licking his lips and looked at his lover. "And you call me the bloody tease?"

You: John glanced up at Sherlock, a satisfied smirk on his face. "It only seemed fair, love," John said innocently. "Perhaps I can keep your brilliant mind occupied long enough with possible adventures until we get home."

Stranger: "If you were closer, you wouldn't be in your seat right now," Sherlock growled. "But I paid for this boat trip so we can relax for a few days and enjoy the fresh air, otherwise, what we do at night is up to you."

You: John swallowed at the sheer amount of heat in Sherlock's voice. He hadn't felt like this since he was a teenager and going on first dates. It was fascinating the things Sherlock's voice could make him imagine. "I'm sure I can think of something," John tried to say smoothly but it came out hoarse. "We may have to be quiet on the boat."

Stranger: "We might," Sherlock chuckled. "But that depends on what we can do. See what noises you can emit from me."

You: John felt heat spread throughout his chest at the thought and was fairly sure his eyes had dilated from Sherlock's smug expression. "That may need to wait until we're home," John replied, a glint in his eyes. "I plan on taking a long time for that experiment."

Stranger: "Oh? Getting into experiments now are we?" Sherlock said, watching John's eyes dilate. "How long would you like to take with this experiment?"

You: "At least a few hours," John replied airily, taking another bite of crepe and licking the sugar off the tines of his fork. "You know, time can be such an important factor. Possibly even longer."

Stranger: Sherlock hummed and turned back to his crepes, cutting another piece for himself. "You know, I may need to perform the same set of experiments on you, dear," he said around a mouthful of the sweet strawberries. "The importance of repeating the experiment and all that."

You: "I would be willing to be a test subject," John replied, laughing. "All in the interest of science, of course. You could even have a hypothesis: how long it takes John Watson to make a noise."

Stranger: "Don't be ridiculous, John," Sherlock said, waving the idea off. "I already know how long that is."

You: "And what would you like to test?" John challenged, nudging Sherlock's foot with his under the table.

Stranger: Sherlock caught the foot with his, keeping it wrapped around John's ankle. "Maybe how high of a note you can really hit in them?" Sherlock said, keeping a straight face. "Or maybe how long it takes you to go hoarse from all the screaming?"

You: "That could be interesting," John mused, sliding the tip of his foot under the cuff of Sherlock's pants. He skimmed up the back of Sherlock's calf, pretending to ignore what he was doing. "That could be a fun experiment. I think my own experiment will have to do with how long it takes before I get you incoherent."

Stranger: "Do you think that's possible?" Sherlock asked, doing his best to keep his mind off the foot that was slowly making it's way towards his thigh. "Me? Incoherent?"

You: "I've managed it," John shrugged, letting his foot slide higher. He really wished they had a long tablecloth on the table or something so he could take his shoe off. Oh well, he'd make the best of it. "The question is, how long would it take? And what, hmmm, stimuli?"

Stranger: "Trial and error," Sherlock shrugged, his cheeks blushing as John's foot gets closer, though his features stay straight. "Might take more than one go."

You: "And isn't that one of the hallmarks of a successful experiment?" John asked. He slid his foot back down Sherlock's leg then out from underneath his pants. Then, he slowly rubbed up the outside of Sherlock's pants. "Repeatable results?"

Stranger: "Yes, that is correct," Sherlock chuckled, feeling John's foot move back up. He shivered slightly at the touch.

You: "Cold are we?" John asked solicitously while sliding his foot past Sherlock's knee. He moved to the inside of Sherlock's thigh, inching closer and closer in.

Stranger: "Freezing," Sherlock hissed, his cock twitching in interest as John's foot inched closer. "I think we may need to go to the boat soon. Shall we get to-go boxes?"

You: "I'm almost done," John replied, cutting another bite of crepe and eating it. He stopped his foot just a few inches from Sherlock's groin and put pressure on his thigh. "It seems a shame to not enjoy these completely now."

Stranger: "I-I guess you're right," Sherlock nodded, turning back to his own plate and stuffing another piece into his mouth. "And I am really enjoying them."

You: "I'll have to try cooking them sometimes," John replied, smiling as he continued to press and stroke Sherlock's thigh. "I'm usually rubbish at complicated things, but maybe I can manage crepes. They are delicious." He let a bit of strawberry drip down his lip and licked it off slowly, eyes on Sherlock's.

Stranger: Sherlock sighed deeply and cast his eyes to his own plate. "Maybe I can help," he muttered, biting the inside of his lip to keep from moaning and giving John that pleasure. "I took a few classes when I was younger."

You: "That could be another experiment," John said, cutting more crepe and eating it. He moved his foot up a little bit, teasing Sherlock mercilessly. "I didn't know you took cooking classes. What do you like to cook?"

Stranger: "Nothing, really," Sherlock said, swallowing hard. "Mum forced me into it; but I remember I can make a mean chocolate cake." He cut another bit of crepe but didn't lift it to his mouth, his eyes becoming unfocused as John's foot almost brushed his erection.

You: "Sherlock?" John prompted, a smirk crossing his face. "You forgot about your crepe." John moved a little further up, the toe of his shoe just touching Sherlock's erection. "Is something wrong, love?"

Stranger: "You little fucker," Sherlock hissed, blinking long and hard for a moment, trying to clear his head. "Nothing's wrong, dear."

You: "Oh, I got a curse out of you," John laughed, easing his foot back and dropping it to the floor. "I think my experiment is going rather well."

Stranger: Sherlock glared at John, sending daggers in his direction. His half hard erection was pressing painfully against his zipper but he didn't shift, keeping John from the satisfaction. "Maybe I should start mine soon," he said, turning his gaze down to the last bit of crepes on his plate. "I have a few ideas."

You: John laughed and ate some more of his crepes. He grinned at Sherlock and asked, "And what ideas would those be, love? Something interesting, I hope?"

Stranger: "Maybe I'll tell you later," Sherlock said, trying to keep his voice calm. "It all depends..."

You: "On what?" John asked curiously. He finished the last of his crepes, scooping up the last of the syrup with his fork and licking it off slowly.

Stranger: "If you're a good boy or not," Sherlock smirked, taking another bite before turning to his water and taking a long, deep drink.

You: John laughed again, loudly, which drew eyes to him but he just shrugged it off. He finished the last of his water and took the check from the waiter when he came by. "Breakfast is on me," he told Sherlock.

Stranger: "You don't have to. I told you I'd take care of it," Sherlock said, watching John dig into his back pocket for his wallet.

You: "All right," John smiled, leaving his wallet where it was. He looked out over the water again, noting boats coming into the docks. The sun was still shining brightly, gentle waves rolling over the shore.

Stranger: Sherlock pulled out his wallet and placed his own card in the check, filling it out quickly. He thought about using Mycroft's card, but he wanted to treat John himself. He filled out the tips and all and signed his name, sliding the booklet back to the middle of the table along the edge. He turned his attention out to the water, where the sun was shinning brightly. "It's beautiful, huh?"

You: "Yes it is," John nodded, glancing at Sherlock then back out over the water. He'd spent a lot of time walking after his time in the hospital and usually ended up on the banks of the Thames or in one of the parks with a pond. The water was always soothing to him and John could often forget his sorrows. Now, he had a feeling he wouldn't need to.

Stranger: Sherlock watched the waves play along the shore for a long time before glancing at his watch. He had gotten his card back a few minutes ago and had placed it in his wallet, but never bothered to check the time. "Shit, we have to go," Sherlock said, standing and grabbing his bag. "The boat leaves in seven minutes."

You: "We'd better run then," John grinned and got up, grabbing his bag. He made sure Sherlock was with him then walked out of the restaurant. Outside, John broke into a run, reveling in the fact that his limp was gone. He could hear Sherlock running next to him and glanced to the side to see a smile mirroring his own on Sherlock's face.

Stranger: Sherlock ran at John's side, smiling as he reminded himself of all the times the doctor had kept up with him chasing down a criminal. He had missed this, the rush of running after someone - or, in this case, something - and the closeness he had felt with John as they did so. It was relaxing, somehow, to know that John was at his side no matter what they were getting into.

You: They made it to the dock with about two minutes to spare, giving them just enough time to get the tickets and find a seat on the boat. John panted heavily, settling his bag between his feet and leaning against Sherlock. "That was fun," he murmured, grinning. "We should do that again sometime."

Stranger: Sherlock was breathing hard, but not as labored as John was. He chuckled and pressed a kiss to John's head. "Yeah, we really should," he laughed, taking John's hand in his. "You alright? You sound winded."

You: "Been a while since I ran like that," John said, his breathing finally slowing down. "Felt good, though." The boat started moving then, pushing away from the dock and starting the voyage over to the other side. A brisk wind played over the boat, ruffling John's hair and pushing it into his eyes.

Stranger: Sherlock pushed the hair from John's eyes and smiled. "We'll get you back into it," he promised, leaning over to press a gentle kiss to his lover's lips. He heard a groan behind him from one of the other passengers but ignored it, hoping John would do that same.

You: John kissed Sherlock back for a moment before regretfully pulling away. "We should probably behave on the trip," he whispered conspiratorially. "Wouldn't want to get dropped overboard."

Stranger: "For what? Kissing?" Sherlock asked, spotting a couple a few rows away sharing a few kisses as well. "They're doing it. No one seems to care about them."

You: John looked over and saw the couple Sherlock was referring to. Wondering if it was them kissing that had caused the person behind them to groan or not, John leaned forward and captured Sherlock's lips again in a light kiss. "You have a point," John replied, lips brushing Sherlock's as he spoke.

Stranger: Sherlock let one of his hands cup the back of John's neck as they kissed, pulling the doctor closer. He slowly ran his tongue over John's lips, keeping the motion slow and caressing.

You: John let his mouth open, the tip of his tongue darting out to press against Sherlock's. He cupped Sherlock's side with one hand, sliding closer on the bench they were sitting on. No other noises came from behind them and John relaxed. "Maybe it wasn't us," he suggested quietly, laughing.

Stranger: "Don't care," Sherlock growled back, kissing John deeper as he slipped his tongue in. "Doesn't matter." His other hand went to the inside of John's thigh, squeezing gently.

You: John couldn't help the groan that came out of his mouth, swallowed by Sherlock as they continued to kiss. Sliding his hand up Sherlock's side, John cupped the nape of Sherlock's neck and held him close.

Stranger: Sherlock chuckled into the kiss and pulled John into his lap, wrapping his arms around the doctor's waist. "That's better," he murmured against John's lips.

You: "Careful, Sherlock," John cautioned, though a chuckle escaped him. "We are around a lot of people." His fingers played with the curls that feathered over Sherlock's collar, the hair soft on his skin.

Stranger: "We aren't doing anything," Sherlock pointed out, pulling John closer. "So, technically, we are okay. No one can complain."

You: "And we should probably keep it that way," John murmured. He kissed Sherlock again, tracing over his bottom lip with his tongue. He felt only a little silly, sitting on Sherlock's lap on the boat. But he pushed all that away, wanting to enjoy the moment.

Stranger: "Even in our room?" Sherlock asked, letting John lead the kiss. He opened his mouth to John's tongue and smiled as it slipped in.

You: John didn't reply, just rolled his tongue against Sherlock's. He teased and tempted, until Sherlock was kissing him back just as hard. Finally, John pulled back for a breath and said, "That's a different story." By now, the boat had made it out to open water and was rocking gently in the waves.

Stranger: "Oh? Do share," Sherlock smirked, going down to bite at John's neck. "I'd like to hear what kind of story you have for us in there."

You: "That is for me to know and you to discover," John smirked, his eyes closing as Sherlock nipped him. "Put your brilliant mind to use and try to deduce what I have in store for you." As they spoke, the engines took on a worrisome rumble, almost as if the pistons were skipping.

Stranger: "What was that?" Sherlock mumbled against John's neck, too busy working the skin to give it much thought. He licked over where he bit down to sooth the skin before working it with his teeth again.

You: "Nothing important," John murmured, tilting his head to the side to give Sherlock more room at his neck. "Just don't stop, love." The arrhythmic rumble of the engines grew louder but still not sounding problematic to any of the passengers.

Stranger: "My pleasure," Sherlock murmured back, nibbling and running his tongue along the bothered skin. "You taste so good. Did you know that? I could spend hours just marking you as mine."

You: John groaned quietly again, his arms wrapping around Sherlock's waist. "I think I could deal with that," he laughed. After another few minutes of the engine noises growing louder, a loud, booming explosion shook the ship. It stopped dead in the water as alarms started blaring.

Stranger: Sherlock pulled back from John and looked up at him, raising an eyebrow. "Nothing, huh?" he asked before pushing John to his feet and standing as well. He started off through the crowed of people, going towards the direction the boom came from.

You: John followed, the distinct smell of engine grease and smoke wafting back towards them. A huge crush of people was clogging the stairwell down into the engine compartment but Sherlock elbowed his way through. John followed, apologizing automatically for the brusque Sherlock.

Stranger: Sherlock reached the engine compartment and moved quickly through the hot and sweaty space. It was steamy and smelled horrid, but Sherlock continued forward through the maze of pipes and machines.

You: "Sherlock, what are you looking for?" John asked, following closely on his heels. He wasn't surprised to get no answer until they reached the place the explosion had originated from. The pipes were a messy tangle, oil and water spraying everywhere.

Stranger: Sherlock looked over the pipes, reaching out and touching one of the long strips of hot metal. He ignored the pain as the metal burned his skin, pullig away a minute later, his hand raw and red. "This shouldn't have happened," he muttered, trying to hide his hand from John.

You: "You're an idiot," John said fondly, grasping Sherlock's wrist and pulling his hand towards him. "Don't touch hot metal, you get burned. Let me see." John looked over the burn; luckily it wasn't too bad since Sherlock hadn't touched the metal long. "What do you mean this shouldn't have happened?"

Stranger: Sherlock pulled his wrist back. "It can looked at later," he said, hearing John huff behind him as he turned, he added; "Promise." He stepped closer to the pipe and indicted along a cut. "See this? The cut's too clean. If the engine failed itself, the cut wouldn't be clean."

You: "You mean this was done deliberately," a new voice said. John turned and saw what he assumed was the captain coming into the compartment. "Someone sabotaged my boat."

Stranger: "Yes," Sherlock said, looking the man up and down a few times, no emotion on his face. The captain shifted uncomfortably under the weight of Sherlock's glare before Sherlock turned back to the pipe. "Looks to be done by a welder, which makes sense with the explosion we heard. Gas runs through this line but the flames wouldn't catch it on fire. The explosion was the flames and gas hitting open oxygen. It would have been small, but strong enough to burst these lines as well, obviously."

You: "Fantastic," John murmured, casting Sherlock a fond smile. The captain stared at the pipes, anger overtaking his face. "And this damage. How long before the explosion would have occurred? Is it possible the saboteur is still on board?"

Stranger: "Possible, yes. The explosion would have happened seconds after the pipe burst open completely. All those smaller pops we heard were just the pipe being cut through," Sherlock said, pacing back to John as the captain stepped closer to the pipe. "He would either be on this ship now or swimming miles of open water to get to shore. My guess is he's still here. Come, John."

You: "How are you going to find him?" John asked, hurrying after Sherlock as the detective rushed off. "Or her. Could be a woman, I guess." John knew he didn't see anything; Sherlock had been fairly good at completely distracting him from anything happening around them.

Stranger: "Easy," he said, but said nothing more, picking up the pace and moving quickly back to where they were during the explosion. He stopped in the room, the crowed murmuring to one another in frantic whispers, and his eyes darted around. They landed on each face, reading each person.

You: John looked at each person as well, wondering what might clue them in to the saboteur. All he saw in the other passenger's faces was confusion, annoyance, and panic in a few. No one seemed to be acting surprised or confused to his eyes, but John would readily admit that Sherlock saw things that John could never imagine.

Stranger: Sherlock finished scanning everyone's face and started off walking quickly again without a word. He moved till he found a staircase, taking them three at a time. He went up two flights of stairs and pushed the landing door open, jogging against the cold wind that hit him towards the front of the boat.

You: "What are you looking for up here?" John asked, puffing a bit as he followed Sherlock out onto the deck. "Do you really think the saboteur is hiding up here?" John was getting annoyed at the silence from Sherlock but it was something the detective had done often while on a case. He seemed to have two settings: silence and mile-a-minute speech.

Stranger: "John, do shut up," Sherlock said, looking over the side of the boat and holding onto the railing, leaning farther over till his hips held him up by the post and he was able to look closer at the front of the boat. He reached farther, pressing farther up on his toes.

You: Rolling his eyes but ceasing questioning, John grabbed Sherlock's hips so he didn't pitch over the edge and into the water below. It was most likely just above freezing and would not be pleasant.

Stranger: Sherlock leaned back and turned to face John, his eyes scanning the man's face for unseen answers to unasked questions. "He's still on board," Sherlock muttered to John, his eyes darting as he thought. "He never escaped."

You: "All right," John prompted, still holding Sherlock's hips though there was no danger of him falling overboard now. "If you just damaged the ship's engines and had to hide the tools you used, where would you go? Drop the tools into the water, maybe?"

Stranger: "Maybe," Sherlock nodded, running his teeth over his bottom lip as he thought. "Or maybe you would hide them in plain sight... And where would you do that?" He smiled at John, knowing the answer already. He always loved when John was able to fill in the blanks.

You: "Well, it would be a welding torch and a tank," John said, thinking out loud. "Hiding it in plain sight.... the engineer's tools in the engine room itself." John smiled as he came to that conclusion, feeling that it was the right one.

Stranger: "Good job," Sherlock smiled, pecking John on the lips quickly before letting him go and darting down the hallway. "Lets go see if we're right, shall we?"

You: John followed after Sherlock again, a wide grin on his face. They made their way back down to the engine room, the captain still looking over the pipes with the engineer. John started looking around the compartment, trying to find the welding tools.

Stranger: Sherlock let a small smile slip as he saw John searching before he turned to the far corner of the room. He spotted the tools and tapped John on the shoulder, nodding at them - the gas tank and the torch sitting right in the middle. "Found them," he muttered, moving over to the equipment.

You: "Well, at least we know how he did it," John said, examining the tools. He turned to the engineer and the captain, both now staring at Sherlock curiously. "Who was in this compartment before the explosion happened?"

Stranger: "Only myself," the engineer shrugged, a heavy Russian accent tinting his words. "But I was out of here five minutes before the explosion. Otherwise I don't know."

You: "There's no other crewmen who help you in here?" John persisted, wondering if the engineer himself had sabotaged the engines. "Or maybe there was someone you missed if you were busy?"

Stranger: "If I missed them, then I missed them," he said, narrowing his eyes at John. "And no, I am the only one that works on this ship. Who are you to ask me all these questions, anywho? You with the British Police or somethin'?"

You: "I used to work with New Scotland Yard," John temporized, not wanting to get into detail. He eyed Sherlock, wondering if the detective was listening or if he had zoned everything else out while studying the tools.

Stranger: "Used to?" The engineer asked, his voice turning icy. "Then I have no need to answering your questions. Get out of my engine room. You have no business here."

You: "No," the captain said sternly, shooting a glare at his engineer. "These men have discovered the tools used to damage the engines. Without them, we might not have known what happened at all. They stay and you will answer questions, Smith."

Stranger: Smith shot his boss a dirty look but nodded and turned back to John without so much as a single word. "Fine, ask your questions," he growled, his eyes narrowing again as they fell on Sherlock.

You: Suddenly, Sherlock stood up and stalked towards the small group. He stopped next to John, eyes narrowed at the engineer. "How long have you been working on this boat?" Sherlock asked quickly.

Stranger: "Ten years," Smith said, his eyes locked on Sherlock's icy glare. "And you are?"

You: "Sherlock Holmes," Sherlock replied distantly as his eyes flicked over the engineer. "Your hands are surprisingly clean for working on engines. And your accent tends to come and go, getting thicker when you are actually concentrating on it. And Smith is not a Russian name. You're actually a plant here, aren't you?"

Stranger: Smith clenched and unclenched his jaw a few times, his eyes never leaving Sherlock's. "I've been working here for ten years," he growled through clenched teeth. "I was raised in the Americas, my dad was American, my mom Russian. My accent tends to come and go. My dad's last name was Smith. And my hands are clean because I was just going on my lunch break and had taken the past five minutes working on getting all the crap off them." He showed Sherlock a few spots on his palm Sherlock never would have been able to see, seeing Smith had his hands in fists ever since they arrived down there. "Any other assumptions?"

You: Sherlock just stared, eyes traveling faster over Smith's form. He was almost never completely wrong like that. Something... wasn't quite right. "John, can you get my bag please?" he asked, turning to the other man.

Stranger: John gave Sherlock a quizzical look, slight worry etching into his eyes. He touched Sherlock's arm and muttered, "You okay?" He couldn't read the expression on Sherlock's face, but he didn't know why he needed his bag. He had nothing in there but clothes. "Should I bring mine as well?"

You: "No, what I need is in mine," Sherlock said, nodding at John. With any luck, the saboteur hadn't had time to clean off the torch and tank he'd used to rupture the pipes. If he could get one fingerprint, Sherlock could compare it to everyone on the ship and rule them out or reveal the saboteur.

Stranger: John nodded and, with one last confused look at Sherlock, rushed upstairs to their bags. He heard a pair of footsteps coming down the stairs but thought nothing of it until he felt knuckles colliding with his jaw and his back hitting the wall a few steps down.

You: Sherlock turned sharply at the sound of flesh hitting flesh, worry flashing through him. He knew John was the only one in the corridor, so he was the only one who could be fighting. Pushing rudely past Smith and the captain, who still had not given his own name, Sherlock ran out into the corridor and looked up the stairs. John was nowhere to be found.

Stranger: The captain and Smith started after Sherlock, unsure of what the noise was near the stairs. They stopped at the bottom as they watched Sherlock run up them two at a time, pausing at the middle to run his finger through something on the wall.

You: "John," Sherlock whispered, heart pounding as he stared at the blood staining his finger. There wasn't a lot, showing that John was still alive. Most likely, considering the height of the spatter, John had been punched in the face to daze him. There were some scuff marks on the upper stairs, showing that John had been dragged up them.

Stranger: Before either men at the bottom of the stairs could say anything, Sherlock was darting up the stairs and out of sight. He ran to grab his bag, shouldered it, and darted back down to where the equipment still sat. He dug through his bag until he found what he was looking for.

You: The captain and Smith followed Sherlock again after one last look at the stairs, staring curiously at the silvery powder Sherlock was dusting over the tools. Sherlock laughed, satisfied, as a couple clear fingerprints showed up in the dust. "I can find the saboteur with these," he said over his shoulder to the captain.

Stranger: "Do you think they were the ones that took... your friend?" the captain asked, watching over Sherlock's shoulder as the man worked. The captain crossed his arms over his chest as Sherlock stood.

You: "I was slow, too slow," Sherlock grumbled to himself. "I assumed there was only one saboteur. But there were two. And the second one has John."

Stranger: "Are you going to be able to find the second one?" Smith asked, raising an eyebrow. The man sounded half on the verge of crazy, if you asked him. "I mean, do you have both of their prints on there? How do you know there's two?"

You: "Because I believe that one of the crewmen was the person who used the torch," Sherlock explained absently, wishing John were here. "And it would make sense for the other to hide as a passenger to make sure none of the others made a fuss. I think that's the one that took John."

Stranger: "I told you, Mr. Holmes, I don't have any crewmen with me. So unless you're talking about someone from his department-" Smith nodded at the captain. "-I'm afraid you're wrong yet again."

You: Sherlock didn't reply; he already knew that the captain or Smith was the one who damaged the pipes. And the captain was looking more likely the longer Smith spoke. The man hadn't let any information about himself out, just ordered others around. "I want to fingerprint both of you," Sherlock said, speaking quickly. He didn't want to waste too much more time before going to look for John, but he had to find the first saboteur.

Stranger: "Fine," Smith shrugged, stepping forward. He held his hand out for Sherlock to do - whatever it was he needed to.

You: Sherlock grabbed a piece of white paper from his fingerprinting kit then dusted the powder over Smith's fingers. He pressed them to the paper, getting a clear imprint of the engineer's fingerprints. He compared them to the print from the tools; they weren't a match. "Captain?" Sherlock asked, holding out his hand.

Stranger: The captain hesitated before stepping forward and holding his hand out. He flinched slightly when Sherlock pressed his finger to the paper, pulling away with a perfect print.

You: Sherlock took only a few seconds to compare the two prints, seeing that they were a perfect match. He looked up grimly, fury writ across his face. "You did this," he growled, lunging forward and shoving the captain up against the wall. "Who is working with you and where did they take John?"

Stranger: "You think I'd tell you?" The captain laughed, a slight accent peaking through that wasn't there before. "You'd sooner kill me than get the name!"

You: "I don't need to kill you," Sherlock growled, face inches from the captain's. "All I need to do is find your pain threshold. Then you'll tell me everything I want to know." The engineer was standing frozen, looking from Sherlock to the captain and back again. "What's going on?" Smith asked, confused.

Stranger: Sherlock ignored Smith in favor of pinning the captain harder against the wall, his fists curled in the captain's uniform. "And how do you plan to do that?" the captain chuckled darkly, his eyes locked on Sherlock's. "Only you know it was really me. Who are the others going to believe? A random British man or the captain of this boat for ten years?"

You: "I have proof," Sherlock said, voice dropping until he was almost whispering. "And I have my own contacts who are far more powerful than yours, captain. Care to test who is believed?"

Stranger: The captain growled at Sherlock, his eyes narrowing. “What are you going to do with me?” he finally asked, his tone icy.

You: “I am going to make sure you can’t go anywhere or hurt anyone,” Sherlock replied matter-of-factly. “After you tell me who your accomplice is and where he took my partner.”

Stranger: “I shall not tell you,” the captain replied. “As for where he took him, even if I told you their name, I couldn’t tell you where they are now. For all I know, they could be tying your little friend up now and tossing him overboard to drown.”

You: “Fine,” Sherlock snapped. He curled his free hand into a fist then slammed it into the captain’s nose. There was a crunching sound and a spray of blood then the captain slumped to the floor, unconscious. Sherlock looked around the compartment and used some zip ties he found in one of the lockers to tie the man up. “Where would you take an unconscious man on this boat if you wanted to hide him?” he asked, turning to Smith.

Stranger: “Down here, I guess,” Smith said, staring at his boss for a few moments with complete confusion before turning to Sherlock. “I mean, the room stretches on most of the length of the boat. Otherwise, the only places I can think of are the rooms onboard and maybe the few closets we have or the captain’s room. Otherwise... I don’t know. Can you explain what just happened?”

You: Sherlock sighed and rolled his eyes. He stood and faced Smith, pulling the unconscious man further into the room and away from the door. “The captain here was the person who damaged the engines,” Sherlock said, grunting a little with the effort of dragging. “Fingerprints matched. And his accomplice has my partner and probably hid him somewhere onboard.”

Stranger: “Why?” Smith asked, following Sherlock deeper into the room. “I mean, what would they want with him?”

You: “I don’t know,” Sherlock grumbled, dropping the captain’s arms. “They could have taken him to try and stop me from investigating. It won’t work.” Sherlock glanced down contemptuously at the captain then rushed back towards the doorway. He had to find John and it would take a long time to search the boat by himself.

Stranger: “What can I do?” Smith asked, rushing after Sherlock as the man started running down the hallway and up the stairs. “Is there anything?”

You: “Help me search,” Sherlock replied, panting a little as he took the stairs two at a time. “You take the left side of the boat and I’ll take the right side.”

Stranger: “Right, and if I find him?” Smith called as Sherlock took off at a sprint down the hallway towards the far side of the boat.

You: “Make sure he’s all right and get someone to come find me,” Sherlock yelled back over his shoulder. He started opening doors as he went, scanning the room quickly for John then hurrying on. When the room had more than one door inside, Sherlock begrudged the extra time it took to search but knew he couldn’t leave anything unsearched.

Stranger: Smith headed off in the other direction, pushing doors open and checking every nook he could think of. He didn’t know what he would find, if he did end up finding John, but he knew he had to help. He saw the way Sherlock looked at John, and the other way around. He saw the worry that crossed Sherlock’s face, the way his lips made a small “no” form when he heard the punch. He didn’t know what was going on between the two men, but he knew it was something important to both of them.

You: Sherlock moved further aft, throwing doors open and leaving them open to show where he’d searched. He found scared and confused passengers but no John. Ever more frantically, Sherlock searched and searched, finally making it to the back of the boat. He hooked around the other side, praying to find John.

Stranger: Smith made it up to the captain’s room, trying the handle and finding it locked from the inside. John had to be in there, he just knew it. Running down the steps as quickly as he could, he broke into a sprint to go find Sherlock.

You: Sherlock met Smith about halfway up the left side and he immediately saw the hope in the other man’s face. “Did you find him?” Sherlocked asked, every inch of him coming to a stop.

Stranger: “I believe... I did,” Smith panted, a small smile on his lips. “Captain’s room... locked from the inside... has to be in there.” Sherlock smiled and pushed Smith to lead the way. As they took the steps two at a time, Smith froze, the captain’s room door standing wide open with no one inside.

You: “I thought the door was locked,” Sherlock said slowly, heart dropping as he walked into the captain’s room. He saw a few drops of blood on the floor, testament that John had been here. There was also a letter in what Sherlock recognized as German on the captain’s desk.

Stranger: “It was,” Smith muttered, watching as Sherlock paced over to the desk and picked up the letter, turning it over carefully. “What’s that?” He asked, as he moved over to peer over Sherlock’s shoulder.

You: “Instructions,” Sherlock said absently after reading over the letter. He looked around the room again, hoping for some sign of where the accomplice had taken John.Though now he had a name, thanks to the letter: Jason Stein.

Stranger: “For what?” Smith asked, taking the letter as Sherlock handed it to him. “I can’t read German. What is it telling us to do?”

You: “It’s not telling us anything,” Sherlock replied sarcastically. “It’s the orders the captain received to sabotage the engines. And it names his partner, Jason Stein. Now we need to go, he can’t have gotten far with John.”

Stranger: “Where would he have taken him?” Smith asked, running after Sherlock, who took off out of the room. “What would they do with him? They wouldn’t toss him over, would they? I remember the captain saying something about that.”

You: “I don’t know,” Sherlock grumbled, irked at how many times he’d said it. “They hadn’t killed anyone yet but John and I are getting in the way. If I get too close, Jason may kill him. Could he have hidden John in a lifeboat?”

Stranger: “He could have, yes,” Smith said, watching as Sherlock climbed up to look into one of the lifeboats the hung by the edge. He sighed and ran down to the next one, climbing up to look inside.

You: Sherlock looked through each boat, getting more and more annoyed at each empty one. Finally, the second to last boat looked promising. The cover over it was rumpled and there was a sighing sound, as of someone breathing heavily. Sherlock threw the cover off and smiled happily when he saw John. The other man had a gag in his mouth and his hands and feet were bound. “Good to see you, love,” Sherlock said quietly, pulling the gag out of John’s mouth.

Stranger: “Thank God, Sherlock,” John sighed as he was freed of his gag. He smiled as Sherlock climbed into the boat to undo John’s ties, getting behind the doctor. “Please, hurry. We have to get off the lifeboat before Jason decides to cast it out-”

You: Sherlock looked up, startled, at a loud noise. The rope holding the lifeboat whipped through the ring, one side tipping down towards the water. Sherlock picked up John and heaved him towards the boat before the lifeboat hurtled down.

Stranger: John landed hard on the deck of the boat, a grunt escaping his lips. He struggled against the restraints as he heard the boat hit the water below. “Sherlock?!” John called out, not having heard the detective ever land next to him. “Sherlock!”

Stranger: Sherlock looked up from the lifeboat, pulling in heaving gasps as he tried to catch his breath. The fall had knocked the wind out of him. Luckily, one of the ropes was still looped around the ring, keeping the boat from being pulled away by the waves. “John,” Sherlock croaked. “John, you all right?”

Stranger: “I’m fine,” John called back, barely hearing the detective over the wind. “Are you? Your voice sounds forced.”

You: “Fine, fine,” Sherlock yelled, finally getting his breath back and his feet underneath him. He didn’t think the rope would take his weight but there were enough outcroppings on the boat itself that he should be able to climb back up. “I’m coming back, John, just hold on.”

Stranger: “I don’t have much choice,” John called back dryly, still trying to free his hands and feet from their bonds. He heard a deep breathing behind him and craned his neck to see Jason coming towards him,fire in his eyes. “Sherlock!”

You: Sherlock clearly heard the worry in John’s voice and climbed as quickly as he could. It wasn’t that far back to the deck and Sherlock made it just in time to see Jason bending over John with a knife in his hands. “Stop!” Sherlock yelled, trying to distract Jason.

Stranger: Jason had pushed the knife into the skin of John’s bad shoulder and twisted it, reopening the wound from many years ago in the army. John screamed out in pain and tried to bend away from the knife as he heard Sherlock yell out.

You: Sherlock pulled himself over the railing and ran at Jason, trying to get the man off John before he did anymore damage. Sherlock tacked him, hearing John scream as the knife was torn out of his shoulder. Jason hit the ground with Sherlock on top of him, the wind knocked out of him.

Stranger: Jason struggled to get his breath back, the knife still firmly held in his right hand. He lashed it at Sherlock blindly, trying to get any part of him. He felt a drop of warm blood land on his arm and smiled as he knew he got some part of his target.

You: Sherlock grunted as the knife sliced through his arm, the blood trickling down his arm. He trapped the hand with the knife with his own hand, pinning it to the floor while laying his forearm over Jason’s throat. It took a few minutes of squirming and fighting to keep the other man pinned, but Sherlock eventually felt Jason go limp beneath him.

Stranger: John lay on his side, his teeth clenched tight as his eyes closed from the pain in his shoulder. He had folded in on himself in his binds, trying to get the pain to go away. He heard Sherlock grunt behind him and the movement from the struggle, but couldn’t bring himself to look back at the detective.

You: Sherlock made sure Jason was unconscious then picked up the knife. He moved to John’s side, running his fingers gently through John’s hair. “Just hold still, John, I’ll cut the bindings,” Sherlock soothed the other man. He cut through the ties quickly, pushing John’s shirt to the side so he could see the wound in his shoulder.

Stranger: John rolled onto his back as Sherlock pulled his shirt away from the wound, the cold air hitting it and making it sting worse. He heard footsteps running towards them but couldn’t bother to open his eyes. “Sherlock, what happened?” The voice asked above him. He recognized the voice as Smith almost at once. “You’re bleeding!”

You: “Do you have a first aid kit on board?” Sherlock asked, brushing aside the question. “John’s been stabbed and we need to take care of it.” He had one arm looped possessively around John’s waist, making sure the other man wasn’t going anywhere.

Stranger: “Yes, of course, let me go grab one,” Smith said before turning on his heels and running off to grab the kit. He came back five minutes later and held it out to Sherlock. “Best one we’ve got on board, has the most in it.”

You: “You need to clean out the wound first,” John managed between gritted teeth. He couldn’t move his arm without sending shooting pain down from his shoulder to his hand. “Use the antiseptic. Then you’re going to want to fashion a bandage for the wound as long as it doesn’t need stitched. Then a sling so I can keep the weight off my shoulder.”

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and searched through the first aid kit, quickly finding the antiseptic John talked about. He cleaned the wound quickly and bandaged it up. He made a makeshift sling out of the gauze in the kit, helping John sit up against the ledge of the boat so he could slip John’s arm in and wrap it around the back of his neck. “That won’t bother you, will it?” Sherlock asked, adjusting the gauze that sat on the back of John’s neck. “Do you need something around it so it won’t rub?”

You: “No, it should be fine,” John said, shaking his head and hissing in pain at the movement. “Thank you, Sherlock.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to Sherlock’s forehead. When he pulled back, John saw the blood staining Sherlock’s sleeve. “We need to check your wound now.”

Stranger: “It’s just a scratch,” Sherlock said, dismissing it with a wave of his hand. “I don’t need you to look it over and only cause yourself pain.”

You: “Sherlock,” John said, a hint of sharpness in his voice. “Let me look at it. I know you and I know you’re going to be running around without rest. Let me just make sure that it won’t be made worse.” With his uninjured arm, John grabbed Sherlock’s wrist and pushed his sleeve up. The cut was indeed shallow but it needed to be cleaned. John used some of the antiseptic and clean gauze, dabbing away the blood and cleaning the cut.

Stranger: “Can I do it?” Sherlock asked before he hissed in slight pain as John pressed the gauze against the cut. “I don’t want you to hurt yourself. You need... you need rest, ow!”

You: “It’s not that bad,” John chided him fondly, still wiping gently at the cut. “And no, you aren’t going to do it because I want to make sure it’s cleaned completely.” He used another piece of gauze to go over with more antiseptic before pulling Sherlock’s sleeve back down.

Stranger: Sherlock glared at John for a moment before shifting slightly and sitting next to John, leaning his head on John’s uninjured shoulder. “Where were you bleeding after Jason punched you?” Sherlock asked after a moment, Smith just watching out over the waves after moving away while Sherlock helped John with his wound.

You: “My lips,” John explained, resting his head on Sherlock’s. “They split against my teeth when he punched me. How do we always walk into stuff like this, Sherlock?”

Stranger: “I don’t know,” Sherlock muttered for, what felt like, the hundredth time that evening. He sighed heavily and closed his eyes. “But this was not how this was supposed to go - any of it. I’m sorry, John.”

You: “It wouldn’t be an event with you without some sort of criminal element, would it?” John laughed, wrapping his arm around Sherlock’s waist. “But can we take a break for a while now? At least until we get to London and don’t have to worry about drowning?”

Stranger: Sherlock chuckled dryly. “I think we can try,” he mused, turning his head to peck John on the neck. “But as you can see, I can’t promise anything. How long do you think it’ll take to fix the engine, Smith?”

You: “Fix?” Smith repeated, shaking his head. “I don’t think it’s possible with the tools I have here. We need to wait for a tug to pull us in to shore or another boat. I should probably go call a mayday.”

Stranger: “Call the police while you're at it,” John said as Smith started to walk away. “Sherlock, can we go lay out on the deck or something? I saw some lawn chairs there in the sun that looked welcoming.”

You: “Yeah, that sounds good,” Sherlock said, getting up slowly and holding out a hand for John. “We need to figure something out for Jason, as well.”

Stranger: “Well, why don’t you just use my bindings to tie him up and to the ledge rail there? I’m sure that will hold him long enough for the police to come collect him,” John said around the grunt he made while standing with Sherlock’s help.

You: Sherlock nodded and pulled Jason over to the railing. He used the ties and tied his hands and legs to the metal rails. Once he was sure Jason was not going to go anywhere, Sherlock held out his hand again for John to take.

Stranger: John laced his fingers with Sherlock’s and followed him to the deck, finding it empty. He went over and laid down on one of the chairs, sighing as he did so. He watched Sherlock pull over another chair and set it up right next to John’s. John laced their fingers together again and scooted closer to the side closest to Sherlock, closing his eyes. “Love you,” he muttered, relaxing fully for the first time since the engine cracked.

You: “I love you, John,” Sherlock replied quietly, squeezing John’s hand. Now that he had time to breathe, the adrenaline was making him tremble a little bit. He’d come close to losing John again.

Stranger: “I’m here, love,” John whispered, feeling the tremble that shook Sherlock’s hand and knowing at once what caused it. “Relax, love. You know, I still need to get you that ring.” He chuckled lightly, turning his head and opening one eye to look at Sherlock, hoping the smile would calm him just a bit.

You: “Ring?” Sherlock repeated, momentarily at a loss as he tried to bring himself back under control. He took several deep breaths and the trembling slowly stopped. He smiled at John and squeezed his fingers.

Stranger: “Don’t tell me you forgot already,” John said, faking a pout on his lips, though the smile was obvious in his eyes. “Do you not want to marry me anymore?”

You: “No, just not thinking,” Sherlock replied, laughing as he realized what he said. “And you will probably never hear me say that again.”

Stranger: John cracked up at that, only laughing harder when Sherlock’s deep laugh joined his. “You really are amazing,” John said through the laughter, smiling at Sherlock as their laughter began to die down. “I’m very lucky.”

You: “I’m lucky for you taking me back,” Sherlock said seriously, his fingertips rubbing over John’s fingers. He lapsed into silence then, the sunlight and the adrenaline sapping his energy and making him tired.

Stranger: “How could I not?” John muttered, more to himself than to the other man. “I’m in love with you - I always have been. How could I not take you back the first chance I got?”

You: Sherlock smiled fondly at John before letting his eyes fall closed. The sound of the waves and the wind coupled with John’s breathing was enough to completely calm Sherlock and let his brain wander without its usual speed.

Stranger: John watched as Sherlock's eyes closed, his whole body relaxing under John's gaze. He couldn't help but think the man was beautiful. Reaching out, he gently brushed the backs of his fingers across Sherlock's cheeks.

You: Sherlock hummed quietly in pleasure, turning his head into John’s touch without opening his eyes. “Like what you see?” he asked lazily.

Stranger: "Very much," John whispered back, smiling fondly as Sherlock basically purred. He leaned over and pressed a very light kiss to Sherlock's head, peppering a few more on his cheeks.

You: "I didn't expect a case while on this boat," Sherlock said apologetically, opening his eyes to catch John's. "It wasn't my intention for us to get involved or you to be hurt. I'm... sorry."

Stranger: "You didn't know, Sherlock," John said, running his fingers through Sherlock's hair soothingly. "Don't feel too bad about it. It wasn't your fault that this happened, or that I got hurt. Please don't keep apologizing."

You: Sherlock rested his hand on John’s leg, smiling fondly. “All right,” he agreed, nodding. “But, you have to admit, we worked really well together again. I enjoy having you by my side John.”

Stranger: "There's no one I'd rather have there," John cooed, kissing Sherlock's forehead. "And to think, someday soon, that will become permanent."

You: "Someday soon?" Sherlock repeated, scoffing a little bit. "In my mind, it's permanent now. Unless you're planning on going somewhere, of course." He rubbed his fingers over the inside seam of John's jeans absentmindedly, eyes flicking over the other man in case he had indeed missed something.

Stranger: "No, I-" John cut off and laughed quietly, leaning up on his good arm to he could look down on Sherlock. "I meant legally, love. I'm not leaving you any time soon."

You: "Good," Sherlock replied, satisfied that he hadn't missed anything. The deductions he'd made about the engineer being completely wrong had thrown him. Leaning up, Sherlock pressed his lips to John's in a light, sweet kiss.

Stranger: "I'll never get tired of that," John smiled as Sherlock leaned back from the kiss. He was so happy he could have this man, just to be able to touch him. The kissing was just that much more amazing.

You: "I don't think I will either," Sherlock replied, squeezing gently at John's leg. "You are amazingly not boring. I could study you for years and never find out everything there is to know about you, your reactions, and your thoughts, John." Sherlock laid back down, hand still on John's leg and closed his eyes again, listening to the waves and John's breathing.

Stranger: "Then I better keep it that way," John said, laying back as well and just enjoying feeling Sherlock's touch on his leg. He was too tired to be aroused by it. "I want to keep you around for a very long time."

You: Sherlock hummed in agreement, sleep creeping up quickly. He felt his muscles relax as John continued to card his fingers through his hair. Finally, unwilling to fight to stay awake any longer, Sherlock fell into a light, dreamless sleep.

Stranger: John chuckled quietly as he heard Sherlock's breathing even out and noted that his lover had fallen asleep. "I'm so lucky," he whispered to himself, smiling down at the detective. He continued petting Sherlock's hair gently, fascinated by the locks.

You: John kept brushing his fingers through Sherlock's hair, playing with the soft strands and wrapping them around his fingers. The pain in his shoulder was annoying but not something that he couldn't ignore. Slowly, John relaxed and edged toward sleep. He glanced one last time at Sherlock before falling asleep himself, hand falling gently to Sherlock's shoulder.

\-------------------------End Chapter 16---------------------------------------


	17. Chapter 17

Stranger: Mycroft sat at his desk, his phone buzzing with a new text he knew was going to be from Greg. The other man had the day off and seemed to take a liking to bugging Mycroft at work. It was annoying, but it made Mycroft smile. He glanced up from the latest message to see Athena walking into the office, the heavy door shutting behind her, her eyes glued to her phone.

You: "Sir, I have a report from the agent you had following John Watson," Anthea said distractedly, typing quickly. "Apparently, Mr. Watson boarded a boat from Paris with your brother heading back here. The boat was sabotaged mid-trip and is floating in the water. Would you like to do anything about it?"

Stranger: "Has there been anything done about it yet? Any rescue boats?" Mycroft asked, sighing and placing his phone on the desk face down. He'd have to get back to Greg later.

You: "Not as of yet," Anthea reported, looking up briefly from her phone. "The agent is on the boat as well and said Sherlock and John caught the saboteurs. Both were injured but are fine. Apparently, the captain was the one who damaged the engines."

Stranger: Mycroft sighed again and thought for a moment. "Get a replacement boat ready for them at the dock. Also, get a few boats out there to collect the passengers. They obviously already know who the other is, there's no point in ruining their little vacation now." Mycroft stood and paced to the door, passing his assistant. "Wish for a coffee?"

You: "Yes, thank you," Anthea replied, a bit of surprise in her voice. "Would you like me to get you anything sir?" She typed a quick message on her phone, getting everything in motion to rescue the passengers.

Stranger: "No, I've got it," Mycroft said, slipping his coat on and sending her a small smile. "There's a nice little cafe just around the corner that I enjoy. I need to get out of this box for a few moments. Though, if you wish, you're more than welcome to join me."

You: Anthea looked up from her phone, slipping it into her pocket at this odd request from her boss. "All right," she agreed, nodding her head. "Sir, is something wrong?"

Stranger: "No, nothing's wrong," Mycroft said, shrugging and waiting for her to follow him. "Just like I said, need to get out of this box. A little fresh air never hurt." He started down the hall, letting the dull pain that had settled in the middle of his forehead slowly slip away.

You: Anthea followed silently, studying Mycroft as they walked. He had changed in remarkable ways in the past couple years, enough that Anthea almost didn't recognize him. "Sir, if you don't like working in your office as much anymore, why not take some of it home?" she suggested suddenly.

Stranger: “I don’t know,” Mycroft admitted, titling his head to look at her in thought. “I guess I just figure if I take it home, I’ll never get it done. When I’m in my office, I’m forced to just do it.”

You: “I can understand that,” Anthea nodded, her eyes thoughtful. “Home, for me, is a sanctuary. I wouldn’t want work to intrude upon it. Nor would I want it to infringe on my personal life.”

Stranger: “Exactly,” Mycroft nodded, pushing the elevator button and stepping back, shoving his hands in his pockets. He decided to leave his usual umbrella in his office, figuring he wouldn’t need it for the short walk. “Besides, I think I would be too easily distracted. Greg, and all.”

You: Anthea laughed softly, the sound warm and happy. “Why didn’t you ask him to meet you since he’s not working today?” Anthea asked curiously, her head tilting again. “I would have thought you’d want to spend time with him.”

Stranger: “I should have,” Mycroft nodded, smiling slightly. “Maybe I’ll ask him to meet me for lunch later on. This is just a quick coffee run, after all. I plan to go right back to the office.” Mycroft turned the corner from the elevators and started towards the exit of the building, holding the door open for Anthea as they reached it. “Because let’s face it, the coffee here is less than good.”

You: “This isn’t where I normally get coffee,” Anthea admitted, lifting her face to the sunshine once they were outside. It was warm today, a clear sky above them.

Stranger: “I think you’ll like it,” Mycroft said, watching her in amusement. “It’s nice - small. They make great coffee, good and fresh, you know?”

You: “I’ve found that the smaller places are best,” Anthea agreed, smiling. “How did you find this coffee house, if you don’t mind my asking.”

Stranger: “Just walking one day. I remember I had the worst headache and decided a break and a stroll would do me some good,” Mycroft said, grimacing as he thought back to how much paperwork he had that day. Easily his whole desk was just covered in the blasted paper from hell. “I kind of just turned the corner up here and the smell hit me. I got to talking to the manager about something I can’t recall and now I go whenever I just need to get out.”

You: They reached the door before Anthea could reply and Mycroft opened it again for her. As she walked in, she inhaled appreciatively; it smelled divine inside. “I may have to come here a little more often if the coffee is as good as it smells.”

Stranger: “It’s better,” Mycroft smiled at her, leading them up to the front counter. “Get what you wish, it’ll be on me today.”

You: “Thank you,” Anthea repeated, smiling and nodding in thanks. She ordered a coffee, adding a splash of hazelnut and vanilla. Then, Anthea stepped back to let Mycroft order his own cup.

Stranger: Mycroft ordered a simple black coffee, just feeling the need for something strong today, and ordered them both a biscuit to go with their coffees. He stepped up to the other counter after paying for the items and waited for their drinks.

You: “Now I see where you go when I can’t find you,” Anthea said dryly. “It was the only time when I didn’t know anything about where you were.”

Stranger: “Yes, but this doesn’t give you any sort of rights to come find me unless you’re coming just to join me and not bother me about work,” Mycroft said, shooting her a look out of the corner of his eye. “You know, unless war’s about to break out again.”

You: Anthea laughed and nodded, accepting the cup when her name was called out. She walked to the little trolley and added sugar, stirring idly while looking at the pictures on the walls. It would seem this coffee shop had an illustrious clientele.

Stranger: Mycroft took his coffee when it was set out and took the biscuits they had placed next to it in a small brown paper bag. He joined Athena by the trolley and looked at the picture she was looking at. “It’s nice, isn’t it?” he said, glancing around at the others that hung by it. “Feels homey.”

You: “Like it’s so far removed from everything that nothing is wrong anymore,” Anthea replied a bit whimsically. She took a sip of her coffee and closed her eyes in appreciation. “You were right, sir. Much better than it smells.”

Stranger: “Told you,” he joked, taking another sip of his coffee. “Are you ready to head back? I’ve got us biscuits, if you would fancy one.”

You: “Yes, I would,” Anthea replied and took the biscuit Mycroft handed her. She bit into it as they walked out, moving slowly back towards the office. “Why has that place not been bought out yet?” she asked curiously. “With its clientele and how delicious everything is, I would think it would be exclusive for government employees.”

Stranger: Mycroft chuckled lightly, taking a bite of his own biscuit. “I’ll be sure to talk to the manger next time I’m there,” he smiled, loving the taste the biscuit and the coffee made together in his mouth.

You: “Oh no, I don’t think that would be a good idea,” Anthea disagreed, shaking her head. “I was just surprised that it hadn’t happened yet. If anything changed, the coffee and biscuits might not be as good.”

Stranger: “You’ve got a point,” Mycroft nodded, sipping his coffee slowly and enjoying the bitter taste. “It’s too good to change.”

You: Anthea continued walking in silence, finishing her biscuit and alternating with sips of her coffee. Her phone beeped at her and Anthea juggled the cup and phone so that she could answer it. “Boats are on their way,” she reported, typing. “Would you like your agent to stay with John or leave with the other passengers?”

Stranger: Mycroft sighed and sipped from his coffee, thinking. “Let him leave,” Mycroft said after a few minutes, knowing he was going to regret this later. “Let them have some time to themselves. It has been three years, after all. I’ll regret it later, but Sherlock can’t say I’ve never done anything nice for him.”

You: Anthea nodded and continued to type, her coffee forgotten for the moment. She walked next to Mycroft until they got back to the office when she headed down another hallway to her own office.

Stranger: Mycroft made his way up to his office and picked up his phone from where he had left it, face down on the desk. He smiled when he saw he had two new messages, both from Greg.

You: Love, you all right? You don’t usually go this long without answering. - GL

Stranger: I’m fine. Just went out for coffee with Anthea. Would you like to meet for lunch on my break? -MH

You: Would love to. I was going to ask you the same question. Where would you like to go? - GL

Stranger: I don’t know. What are you up for? -MH

You: There’s a new place down near the Eye. Chinese I believe. Want to try there? - GL

Stranger: Sure. That sounds nice. Around three? I’ll pick you up if you want. -MH

You: How about we meet there? That way you can go back to work if you need to. - GL

Stranger: Alright, sounds like a plan. How’s your day off been? -MH

You: Quiet. No dealing with Anderson and just lounging around all day. I haven’t even gotten dressed yet. - GL

Stranger: Did you even wear anything to bed last night? -MH

You: Nope. Why do you ask, love? Couldn’t you tell? - GL

Stranger: Yes, but I’m just picturing you lounging around naked all day. Is that so bad? -MH

You: I don’t think so. It’s what I was hoping for when I mentioned it. - GL

Stranger: Emm. I sort of wish I was there now. -MH

You: So do I. See you at lunch, Mycroft? - GL

Stranger: See you at lunch, Greg. -MH

You: Lestrade set his phone on the nightstand next to the bed and stretched, grinning as he imagined Mycroft’s face while reading those texts. But now it was time for a shower and getting dressed. Lestrade got up and started getting ready, still grinning at the plans he was making for later.

Stranger: Mycroft set his phone down on his desk and chuckled at the thought of Greg laying naked and alone in bed all morning. He turned back to the pile of paperwork on his desk and the smile faded from his face. With a glance at the clock, noticing he had about two and a half hours before his lunch break, he turned to his paperwork and pulled it towards him. Maybe if he got it all done, he could go home with Greg.

You: Lestrade was done with his shower and dressed quickly, still having about two hours before lunch. He sat down to watch telly for a while, though he couldn’t keep his attention focused on it. His mind kept wandering to having Mycroft in bed that night. Possibly with his handcuffs.

Stranger: After forcing himself to focus on the paperwork until it was all done, he allowed himself a glance up at the clock. He still had half an hour before his break, but everything was done. If he made the arrangements he needed to, he could go home with Greg and have his lover for the rest of the night. Standing, he started typing out on his phone to Anthea, setting everything up.

You: Anthea knocked on Mycroft’s door, her news easier and quicker to speak rather than text. “The boats have arrived and John and Sherlock have their own. The other passengers are on their way to their destination,” she explained. “Is there anything else you would like done?”

Stranger: “No, I think that’s it,” Mycroft said, slipping his coat on and pocketing his cell phone. “I’m going out to lunch with Gregory and, since I’ve got everything done, I figured I’d just head home for the day. Unless there’s something more I need to do I’ve forgotten about?”

You: “No, there is nothing else,” Anthea replied, checking her phone. “You have several important meetings tomorrow, though.”

Stranger: Mycroft grunted and rolled his eyes to himself. “Noted. What time is the first one, again?”

You: “Eight AM,” Anthea told him, putting away her phone. “Have a good day, sir.” She nodded and closed the door, heading back to her own office.

Stranger: Mycroft nodded back at her and headed to the door. He left it open behind him, knowing Anthea would shut it behind her. He made his way down to his car and got into the driver's seat, not bothering with a driver today. He pulled out onto the road and started towards the Eye.

You: With about half an hour until he needed to meet Mycroft, Lestrade headed out. He drove slowly, enjoying the day. It was nice not having to drive to a body to investigate. He parked in a parking garage near the London Eye and walked the rest of the way to the restaurant.

Stranger: Mycroft found the place Greg was talking about and parked a few blocks away. He walked to the Eye, just looking at it for a while, knowing he had at least ten minutes before he had to meet his lover. Strangely enough, even though he'd grown up in London and had been there all his life, he had never ridden on the Eye.

You: Lestrade looked around the square and studied the Eye. He'd been on the ride once with his ex-wife on a date but never again. He'd always felt himself to be above going on tourist traps like it. But now, it might be interesting to try something new. Then, Lestrade saw Mycroft and he decided to make that day today. "Mycroft!" he called out, waving at the other man.

Stranger: Mycroft turned and smiled as he saw Greg walking towards him. He hugged the other man and pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "Hello there," he smiled, taking his lover's hand. "I see you're early too."

You: "Hello, Mycroft," Lestrade replied, twining their fingers together and squeezing Mycroft's hand. "I got bored without you. I saw you looking at the Eye. Want to go for a ride?"

Stranger: "I-" Mycroft cut off and looked up at the towering wheel. He bothered his lower lip. He did want to go, but it was so high. Even after his incident with Sherlock back over a year ago, he still had a deadly fear of heights. "I- I- I do... But I'm..."

You: "What's the matter?" Lestrade asked, pulling Mycroft towards him and hugging him. "You seem nervous all of a sudden." He followed Mycroft's gaze, noting idly that the Eye was extremely tall.

Stranger: "Don't you know..?" he muttered, dropping his head to his lover's shoulder. "I thought Sherlock would jump at the opportunity to embarrass me on any stupid thing he could find about me."

You: "He hasn't told me anything, no," Lestrade replied, confusion etching his face. "Come on, love, you can tell me. What has you hesitating? Are you afraid?"

Stranger: Mycroft sighed into Greg's neck and tightened his grip around his waist. "I'm scared of heights," he muttered into Greg's skin. "I almost fell off a bridge once and it scared me. I hated heights after that. I really want to go on the ride but..." he hesitated, bothering his lip. "I'm afraid."

You: Lestrade pressed a kiss to the top of Mycroft's head, holding him tight against his side. "I'll be there with you," he murmured, understanding fears. He had a few of his own. "I won't let you fall. Will you come with me?"

Stranger: Mycroft looked back up at the ride and gripped Greg's hand tighter. He took a deep breath before turning back to his lover and slowly nodding. "As long as you're next to me the whole time," he murmured, hating how much he sounded like a little child.

You: Lestrade smiled fondly at Mycroft and nodded. He started walking them towards the ticket booth, keeping in the laugh at the apprehensive look on Mycroft's face. "I won't be going anywhere," Lestrade promised. "And I won't let go of your hand if that makes you feel better."

Stranger: "It does," Mycroft admitted, avoiding Lestrade's eyes. He looked up at the ride as Greg paid. He couldn't get over how tall it really was. His stomach did a few flips when Greg pulled him towards the entrance and they stepped into one of the big bubbles. He attached himself to Greg's side almost as soon as the door closed. It was a small crowd, so luckily they got a bubble all to themselves. He wrapped his free arm around Greg's and squeezed his hand, trying to smile at the other man.

You: Lestrade rubbed a hand over Mycroft's bag as the ride started, the bump making both of them stumble a little bit. "You ok?" Lestrade asked once he'd caught his balance again. He studied Mycroft's face, seeing even more fear now that they were moving and rising up.

Stranger: Mycroft nodded wordlessly, his eyes darting around before he just closed them and focused on his breathing. He gripped tighter to Greg, pulling himself closer to the man's side. "I want to enjoy this," he murmured, his eyes still closed. "I heard it's supposed to be beautiful. Plus I'm with you."

You: "Have you ever ridden the Eye before?" Lestrade asked curiously, rubbing a hand soothingly up and down Mycroft's side. They were about halfway up the side now, the Thames stretched out before them and glittering in the sun.

Stranger: "Never," he muttered, slowly opening his eyes and glancing out the big window. He heard a small whimper leave his mouth and Greg tightened his hold on him. "My parents didn't believe in tourist traps when we were kids. By the time I was old enough to ride alone, I was scared of heights. So I never bothered."

You: "What made you so afraid of heights, love?" Lestrade asked, standing steady so that Mycroft had something to hold onto. He had forgotten how much of London you could see from the Eye, especially as they neared the top.

Stranger: Mycroft tensed when the ride stopped at the top, his back going ridged. "I almost fell," he muttered, his eyes scanning the city as he tried to relax. "I was able to catch the edge of the bridge before I completely fell into the shallow water. If I hadn't done so, I probably wouldn't have made it. After that, I have been terrified of heights. I don't want to fall again." He wondered how long they would be stopped up top, knowing that sometimes the rides did break down, though it was rare. He tried to enjoy it - the view really was beautiful over the city. It was just so high...

You: "I'm glad you did," Lestrade replied. He wondered if the ride would stop at the top as it sometimes did to let new passengers on in other carriages. It wasn't doing a very brisk business today so there may actually be no one else waiting to get on. His thoughts ground to a halt when the carriage did and Lestrade felt Mycroft tense even more next to him. "It's ok, love," he murmured, turning Mycroft's face to meet his eyes. "Try and relax. I've got you."

Stranger: Mycroft nodded and leaned up to kiss Greg quickly on the lips. "I'm sorry. I really do think it's beautiful up here, it's just... I don't know. I know I won't fall from here, but I'm still scared. I feel like I can fall if I move any more. Don't let me fall..." He bothered his lip with his teeth, his eyes scanning the buildings.

You: The Eye started again with a bump, moving into its downward arc. They were standing in the middle of the compartment, away from the bubble window that looked out over the Thames. "I won't," Lestrade promised. "Do you trust me, love? Can we try something?"

Stranger: "I trust you," Mycroft muttered, looking up at Greg. "What is it that you want to try?"

You: "I want us to step a little closer to the window," Lestrade explained, taking a step towards the front of the bubble and drawing Mycroft along with him. "We won't go any closer than you can handle but it might help your fear if you confronted it in a safe way."

Stranger: "Just... Just don't let go," Mycroft muttered, drawing closer to the window with Greg. Mycroft squeezed his hand as they got closer, his heart racing. He moved closer to Greg, gripping his arm.

You: Lestrade stepped behind Mycroft as they stopped a few steps from the window. He wrapped his free arm around Mycroft's waist and rested his chin on the other man's shoulder. "It's not so bad, is it?" he whispered, breath ghosting over Mycroft's skin. "Especially as we're going back down towards the ground."

Stranger: "I-I guess," Mycroft muttered, leaning back into Lestrade's hold, trying to get as close to the man as he could. “Just don’t let go.” He knew he was repeating himself, but with his heart beating as fast as it was, he found he really couldn’t bother to care.

You: “I’m not, Mycroft,” Lestrade said soothingly. He looked out the little window in the door and saw that there were no other patrons waiting for a ride. The operator raised a hand in a circle and Lestrade nodded, telling him he wanted to go around again. “You all right, love?”

Stranger: “F-fine,” Mycroft said, watching as the ground came closer. He missed the wordless conversation between Lestrade and the man on the ground until their bubble didn’t stop. “Are we... going around again?” He muttered, his tone unsure.

You: “One more time,” Lestrade replied, squeezing his arm gently around Mycroft’s waist. “Then we can go to lunch if you like.” He could feel a slight shivering in Mycroft, feeling a little guilty for going around again.

Stranger: Mycroft nodded, his stomach doing flips as the ground and the people below got smaller and smaller. He started to shake as the nerves took him over again and he closed his eyes, bothering his lower lip. It was worse, being so close to the side of the bubble.

You: “Hey, love, you’re all right,” Lestrade said, a thread of worry in his voice. “Here, turn around. Look at me.” He eased back a little bit, letting Mycroft move against him. Lestrade saw that Mycroft’s eyes were closed and pressed his forehead to the other man’s. “Open your eyes love.”

Stranger: Mycroft shook his head, not wanting to see how high up they really were. It wasn’t as bad the first time since they couldn’t watch the people below getting smaller, but since they were on the edge this time, Mycroft was able to tell just how high they really were. He felt his body freeze to the spot, his legs unwilling to carry him away from the edge.

You: “Love, you won’t see anything but me,” Lestrade soothed Mycroft, moving his hand from around Mycroft’s waist to cup his cheek. “It’s ok, just open your eyes and look at me. I’ve got you, you’re safe.”

Stranger: Mycroft hesitated for a moment before opening his eyes slowly. His gaze connected with Lestrade’s for a moment before slipping to the side. He saw the ground retreating farther and quickly closed them again, his shivering growing. He was unable to help any of it. They were higher up now than he and Sherlock were before and he had almost fell then. With that thought fresh in his mind, his shivering became worse and he took his arms from around Greg, wrapping them tightly around himself. Mycroft tried to push the thoughts away as well as the memory of where he was right then.

You: “Mycroft, you’re all right,” Lestrade said worriedly, rubbing his hands up and down Mycroft’s arms. He stepped closer again, hoping that feeling him near might calm Mycroft a bit. “We aren’t going to fall. Just breathe and look at me. Look only at me, don’t worry about anything else.”

Stranger: Mycroft shook his head, folding in on himself as the panic slowly set in. “Don’t want to fall,” he muttered, shakily. He hated how much he was panicking over what could be nothing, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Don’t want to fall...”

You: Their compartment crested the top of the circle and started back down. Lestrade pulled Mycroft into a hug, pressing the other man’s head into his shoulder. “Shh, you’re not falling,” Lestrade murmured into Mycroft’s ear. “I’ve got you. Just breathe, love.”

Stranger: Mycroft tried to focus on his breathing, not noticing his dampened cheek even as Greg pushed his head to his shoulder. He heard Greg’s words but couldn’t focus completely on them. His mind was more focused on the fact that they were going down. Slowly, but they were falling, and Mycroft panicked more.

You: The compartment came to a stop at the bottom, Lestrade sending a glance to the operator to ask for a couple minutes. The operator saw the pure panic on Mycroft’s face and nodded; there were still no other people wanting to ride. “We’re back down, Mycroft,” Lestrade reassured him, turning back to press a kiss to Mycroft’s temple. “You haven’t fallen and you can look again.”

Stranger: “No,” Mycroft muttered, his voice cracking. He was crying by this point, but not heavily. Just a few tears rolled down his cheeks in the sheer amount of panic he had just went through. He kept his eyes closed, not wanting to open them and see the ground so far down.

You: “Mycroft, I promise you, we are back on the ground,” Lestrade replied, turning Mycroft’s face up to his. “You trust me right? Open your eyes and look at me.”

Stranger: Mycroft ground his teeth together and forced one eye open. He closed it almost at once before forcing it open again to stare at Greg. He slowly forced the other open to locked eyes with Greg, not wanting to look around in case they were still up in the air.

You: “There you go,” Lestrade said, more reassured now that Mycroft wasn’t panicking as much. “Take a few deep breaths and when you feel ready, look over my shoulder. We can leave whenever you want.”

Stranger: Mycroft blinked hard before allowing his gaze to move over Greg’s shoulder, seeing they were, in fact, back on the ground. A small, nervous chuckle left his lips before he wrapped his arms back around Greg’s waist and pulled him close, dropping his forehead to Greg’s shoulder. “God...” he muttered, the chuckle still light. “God...”

You: Lestrade hugged Mycroft again, letting laughter bubble out of him. It was mostly relief that he had gotten Mycroft to calm down. “See? We lived through it and you didn’t fall anywhere. Though I probably shouldn’t have had us go around a second time. I’m sorry about that, love,” Lestrade said apologetically.

Stranger: “It-it’s fine,” Mycroft said, pulling back, suddenly wanting to get off the ride as soon as possible. He whipped his eyes on the back of his hand and laced his fingers with Greg, pulling him towards the exit. “I’m sorry, too. I panicked up there. I really am sorry.”

You: “Don’t worry about it,” Lestrade replied, nodding in thanks to the operator as they walked past. ”I can understand being afraid of something. It was very brave of you to even go on the ride, love.”

Stranger: "Still, I'm sorry about how bad I panicked. I know it must have scared you a little," Mycroft said, stopping a bit away from the ride and turning to Greg. "Thank you for... Helping me."

You: "You're welcome," Lestrade replied simply, holding out his hand again. "I was hoping to help reduce your fear a little bit but I guess it backfired. Are you feeling up to a meal right now or would you rather go home?"

Stranger: "Lunch sounds good," Mycroft muttered, taking Greg's hand. "I just want to relax."

You: "It's just over here," Lestrade said, leading the way. He twined their fingers together, squeezing gently on Mycroft's hand. "I've heard a lot of good things from some in my division. They love the food here."

Stranger: "I'm sure it'll be amazing," Mycroft said, letting himself relax more. "I'll pay today."

You: Lestrade shook his head, smiling fondly. "No, I will," he replied decisively. "Think of it as an apology, love." He lifted Mycroft's hand to his lips and brushed a kiss over the back.

Stranger: "Are you sure?" Mycroft muttered, holding the door open for Greg. "I'd be more than happy to pay. I have the money."

You: Lestrade waited to reply until the host had seated them, little glasses of water and menus left in his wake. "And so do I," Lestrade replied, picking up his menu and looking through it. "It's not about the money. It's something I want to do. I feel bad about taking you on the Eye now."

Stranger: "Don't, Greg," Mycroft said, shaking his head. "I wanted to enjoy it. I've always wanted to see the town from the top but I just... Can't. Don't feel bad just because of my stupid fear. It's not your fault I have a fear of something so... Idiotic."

You: "I don't think it's idiotic," Lestrade replied, smiling. "You should hear about some of my phobias. You have a genuine reason to be afraid of heights, considering you almost died falling off a bridge." He looked down at his menu, deciding to try something new today.

Stranger: Mycroft opened his mouth to ask but was interrupted by the waiter. He ordered a dish from one of the pictures - the name not in the caption, which he thought was a bad promotional tactic - and a glass of lemonade. He waited for Lestrade to order before finally asking. "Would you tell me some of yours?"

You: "I'm terrified of rats," Lestrade admitted quietly after fidgeting with his glass for a minute. "I also can't stand the sound of wood cracking; it reminds me of bones. Kind of weird but nothing I have to deal with on a daily basis, thankfully."

Stranger: "I'll remember that," Mycroft nodded, reaching across and laying his hand across Greg's. "I'm glad you trust me enough to tell me these things, love."

You: "You'll find them out eventually," Lestrade grumbled, rolling his eyes. "I'm sure at some point I'll see a rat or hear a piece of wood crack in the fireplace. I hate having the phobias but they're something I've had for as long as I can remember." He took a sip of his water, looking up when another waiter placed a pot of tea and two cups on the table.

Stranger: Mycroft nodded his thanks as the waiter turned away. "I have to ask, love," he said, pouring each of them a thing of tea as the same waiter that took their order placed a tall lemonade down at his elbow. He nodded again before turning back to Lestrade. "Are you afraid of the actual bones cracking? Or do you just not like the sound that they and the wood make?"

You: Lestrade thought about that for several seconds, pouring a cup of tea for himself. He poured for Mycroft as well, even though the other man had lemonade. "I suppose a bit of both," he finally said thoughtfully. "I've seen a lot of injuries, a lot of fights. The sound of breaking bone is never a good one."

Stranger: "I understand that," Mycroft nodded. "So is it a fear or just a dislike? It sounds to me like you just don't really like it."

You: "Again both," Lestrade admitted. He grimaced as he thought of a childhood injury, the one time he'd broken bones. "When I was ten or so, I fell out of a tree house. I landed wrong and broke both bones in my left forearm. The sound of them snapping is something I'll never forget and I'm scared to think I could do it again."

Stranger: Mycroft frowned at the DI. "I'm sorry, love," he muttered. "I'll protect you the best I can, though. No one will be hurting you if I have anything to say about it."

You: "Thank you," Lestrade smiled, taking Mycroft's hand and squeezing it. It was something he'd learned he had in common with John, the need to touch. It was something he'd sorely missed towards the end of his marriage. "I've learned how to fight and defend myself. And gotten myself into a position where I don't really need to with work. That was one of the bigger draws for me being made detective inspector."

Stranger: "Either way, I'm glad you know how to defend yourself if something ever happens where you need to," Mycroft said, giving Lestrade's hand a squeeze back, giving him a small smile. "I just hope you don't need to. Especially if it's something I'm calling you in for. So for both of our sanity, please, love, just fire Anderson and hire a better team." Mycroft couldn't help the small laugh that bubbled out of him.

You: "I've thought about it, believe me," Lestrade laughed ruefully, drinking his tea now that it had cooled down a little bit. "The only problem is that if he goes so does Sally Donovan I think. I don't want to lose her, she's good. And, honestly, I think Sherlock enjoys coming up with new insults for Anderson. It's seem to have become a game they play since it's hard to believe that someone could be that amazingly incompetent."

Stranger: "Then can you at least hire another man that you can bring with you on the harder cases?" Mycroft asked, shaking his head. "I don't see why Ms. Donovan would leave with Anderson, but at least if you hire another man as well, you can have a... better back-up for the ones Anderson could mess up too easily."

You: "It's something to consider," Lestrade replied, smiling a little at Mycroft's insistence. "I've solved cases with him so far; the team works. I think I'll give it some more time, let Sherlock come back and see how it all goes."

Stranger: "Fine," Mycroft shrugged. "But he's not the smartest man in the world, remember that." He smiled as Lestrade, knowing they were just joking about with a serious subject. He did want him to get a new man other than Anderson, but Mycroft also knew Greg wouldn't do that. He always tried to find the best in people. It's that part of this man that saved his brother from the gutter, so he couldn't help but love him for it.

You: "So, how goes fixing Sherlock's reputation?" Lestrade asked lightly, changing the subject. He really did want Sherlock to come back and help with cases and that couldn't be accomplished without this key step. "It's been, what, about a month and a half?"

Stranger: "About, yes," Mycroft nodded, taking a sip from his lemonade. "It's going alright. I'm currently working on getting the story out there to fix him up a little more. It takes time. Lots of time. And the government isn't really known for it's lightening speed to begin with."

You: "Yes, I've come across the glaciality of the bureaucracy myself," Lestrade laughed, rolling his eyes in amusement and annoyance. "Try getting a warrant when, according to the judge, you don't have enough evidence. And John, did you find out where he really was?"

Stranger: "He's currently on a ship back to London," Mycroft muttered, wondering how Greg would react to him telling him that John was with Sherlock now.

You: "I suppose that's a good thing," Lestrade said slowly, eyeing Mycroft. His fiance had a slightly shifty look in his eyes. "Does that mean he didn't actually find Sherlock?"

Stranger: "Actually... Love, he found Sherlock," Mycroft said slowly, his fingers sliding along the damp outer side of his glass. "Their boat broke down as well, it was attacked. From what Anthea told me, both of them were hurt but not so badly that they couldn't handle it for a while."

You: Lestrade was silent as he thought that through. He was a bit surprised he felt nothing but happiness for John, though it made sense. They'd both finally found their Holmes, hadn't they? "Does he know it's him or does he still think Sherlock is Dean?" Lestrade asked.

Stranger: "He knows who he is," Mycroft nodded, unable to help the small smile that caresses his lips. "I can't help but be happy for him, you know?"

You: "It's about time," Lestrade agreed, mirroring Mycroft's smile. "He was crushed when he thought Sherlock was dead. Some people just belong together."

Stranger: "I agree," Mycroft nodded, giving Lestrade's hand another squeeze. "I'm glad my brother could find the man for him. John's a good thing for him."

You: "John makes him the good man I saw he could be," Lestrade said thoughtfully, a memory of the first case John and Sherlock had worked together running through his mind. "I told John that Sherlock was a great man and, if we were lucky, he could become a good one. I think we're lucky."

Stranger: "Maybe we're all just lucky," Mycroft mused, smiling at Lestrade. "My brother found the man that makes him better, and I found mine."

You: "I make you better?" Lestrade asked quizzically, tilting his head to the side as their waiter brought their food. Vegetable tempura with fried rice was set in front of him while Mycroft's plate was set in front of him. "How exactly do I do that?"

Stranger: Mycroft shrugged, suddenly feeling stupid for bringing it up. "You changed me, I guess," he muttered. He wasn't sure how or why, but he felt like he was a new person with Greg. Like he was a little more open to the world - a little less cold. "You changed everything."

You: Lestrade studied Mycroft, seeing the change in his demeanor. The other man went from open and smiling to closed in. "I hope that you don't mind," he finally said. "You've made me better, too. I'm glad of it."

Stranger: "How did I make you better?" Mycroft asked, forking a piece of the chicken on his plate and lifting it to his mouth. "I'm glad you changed me; people are more open to me now. But how could I have possibly changed you?"

You: Lestrade gave himself time to think by taking a bite of his food. He chewed carefully, wondering how exactly he wanted to answer the question. "I don't know how to word it but you opened me up again," Lestrade finally said. "I'd kept everyone at arm's length, afraid to let people close after my divorce. I tried to focus on work and be satisfied with that but it didn't work. You filled an empty part of me."

Stranger: Mycroft set his fork down and stared at his lover from across the table for a long moment. "I did?" he finally asked, unsure of how Greg came to that conclusion. "You never once pushed me away, though. Was I missing something?"

You: Lestrade laughed warmly, reaching over and squeezing Mycroft's hand. "I tried to push you away at first, you remember? I didn't want to leave with you for that first date. But after I made the choice to go, I never looked back. Well, except for the... misunderstandings we had." Lestrade looked sheepish at that; they were more-than-partly his fault.

Stranger: "Yes, but your friend had just overdosed for the first time and was laying on a hospital bed. You thought your other friend had just killed himself as well. I would have been shocked if I was able to pull you out of there easily," Mycroft said, lacing their fingers together to hold while they ate. "That, and a little disappointed in you." He laughed lightly before continuing. "And the misunderstanding- love, it meant nothing. We're back together and we're engaged. We never would have gotten here if it wasn't for the bumps in the road that only strengthen our relationship. It showed us that we could work through anything. If anything, the misunderstanding helped us."

You: "Yes, I have to admit it did," Lestrade smiled then pretended to glare at Mycroft. "So that first time you asked me to go to lunch, it was a test? What would you have done if I had said yes the first time?"

Stranger: "Took you to lunch all the same," Mycroft shrugged. "I honestly did want you to go with me. But if had gone without a fight- well, what sort of friend would you have been to John?"

You: "You have a point," Lestrade admitted, reluctantly remembering those hours sitting and praying. "I still feel a bit guilty that I did leave, you know? But I think you were right to convince me. It wouldn't have done John any good had I collapsed from exhaustion." He took another bite of tempura, glad that he had suggested this place. His co-workers were right, it was delicious.

Stranger: "I would have gotten lunch into you one way or another," Mycroft chuckled, squeezing his lover's hand as he forked another bite, this time of the rice and vegetables that came with the chicken. "No offense, love, but you looked God awful when I saw you. Upset, worried sick, tired; the last thing I wanted to see was you passed out next to John. I had to do something."

You: "Thank you for taking the first step," Lestrade said, inclining his head towards Mycroft and chuckling with him. "I doubt I ever would have."

Stranger: "Oh?" Mycroft asked, smiling. "You're welcome, but why would you say you wouldn't? Even if we waited longer-?”

You: "Closed in, remember?" Lestrade reminded, smiling. "I wouldn't have been looking to start anything resembling a relationship at the time. Perhaps after a long while but I was focusing on work only."

Stranger: "I must ask, love," Mycroft said quietly, his smile still on his lips. "Do you have any regrets? Anything you wish we'd done? Anything you would have changed? No reason, just wondering."

You: "No, I don't think I would change anything," Lestrade said after thinking for a few moments. "I think what happened had to happen for us to be here now. Do I wish some things had gone differently? Yes, but it doesn't matter now." He laughed then, dispelling a bit of the tension that had sprung up around them. "You notice we always have these serious conversations over meals? What is it about food that loosens tongues?"

Stranger: "I did not mean it as too serious," Mycroft said, laughing along with him. "I was just curious. I just want to know. What do you wish had gone differently? Nothing will change between us, I just am curious as to how one thing might have changed everything."

You: "I wish Sherlock had kept his knowledge to himself," Lestrade said honestly, surprising himself slightly. "Usually I like to know everything but there are things that knowing causes more damage than help. And it was something you'd obviously put far behind yourself."

Stranger: "True," Mycroft said, thinking hard on that for a moment with a frown. He looked back to Greg after a moment and smiled. "But it had a good outcome, at least, after a while. Anything else?"

You: "No, not really," Lestrade shook his head and smiled. "What about you, love? Is there anything you would like to change about what happened?"

Stranger: "I wish I had found you sooner," Mycroft said with a chuckle. "Otherwise, I wish I didn't have to lie to you the first part of our relationship. I hated having to keep as big of a secret such as Sherlock being alive from you. I knew it was hurting you."

You: Looking down, Lestrade relived the first moments when he'd found out Sherlock was alive. Confusion, shock, joy, anger had all swirled within him. "I understand why you did," he finally said, meeting Mycroft's eyes again. "And I do wish I had found you sooner."

Stranger: "Otherwise, I have nothing to change. Everything has been so perfect with you," Mycroft admitted, turning back to his food, which had cooled.

You: Lestrade smiled wider and went back to his own meal. The time passed in companionable silence, the two trading looks and fond smiles every once in a while. Finally, once they were finished, the waiter delivered the check with two fortune cookies.

Stranger: "Haven't had these in a while," Mycroft muttered, taking the one Greg passed to him. They unlaced their fingers and Mycroft watched as Greg cracked his open, pulling out the little slip of white paper. "What does yours say?"

You: "You will soon be traveling out of the country," Lestrade read off the cookie. He sighed as he ate a piece of cookie, the almond taste perfect with the tea. "I just hope it's not for work. Jurisdictional issues are a pain. How about yours?"

Stranger: "An unexpected relationship will become permanent," Mycroft read off. "With the 'lucky numbers' of three, fifty-six, thirty-two, thirty-eight, twenty-five, and forty-two."

You: "Hey, the answer to life, the universe, and everything," Lestrade laughed, wondering what his lucky numbers were. "Mine are eight, sixteen, thirty-six, fourty-four and fifty."

Stranger: "When Sherlock was a child, he used to put 'in my pants' at the end of each of the readings," Mycroft chuckled, placing his sheet of paper to the side and picking off a piece of cookie. "He was about seven. He would have gotten a kick out of these."

You: "My friends used to add "in bed" to the end of each one," Lestrade replied, eating more of his cookie. "We got some interesting sentences and it never failed to crack us all up. So, do you have to head back to work once we're done or are you free?"

Stranger: "I'm free unless Anthea texts me otherwise," Mycroft said, still - he refused to call it a giggle - chuckling as he thought of a young Sherlock running up to Mycroft's bedroom, knocking on it and running in with a small paper in his hand. He could hear the little boy now, "My! My, you have to hear this one!" "And what does this one say, Sherlock?" he would ask the giggling little boy, bending over in his desk chair to look the boy in the eyes. "An unexpected relationship will become permanent... IN MY PANTS!" The little boy would burst into laughter, screaming the last part through his giggles. "Isn't that funny, My?" He was snapped out of his thoughts by Greg's voice.

You: "Mycroft?" Lestrade repeated for the third time, an amused smile on his face. "I paid the check, if you're ready to leave. You went somewhere, huh? What were you thinking about?"

Stranger: "Nothing, really," Mycroft said, the smile on his lips saying otherwise. "Just thinking of a younger easier to handle Sherlock. We used to be so close..."

You: Lestrade stood and held out his hand again to Mycroft. He waited until the other man had taken it then started walking towards the exit. "He seems to be getting a little better," Lestrade noted, holding the door for Mycroft. "And so does your relationship. Just give it some time and relax from being the British Government, as he calls you."

Stranger: "I'm trying," Mycroft said, nodding. He wanted their relationship to go back to as simply as it was back when Sherlock was just a kid and Mycroft was in High School. It had been fun, easy. Sherlock trusted him and looked up to him at that time. If only he had been more careful before going to Uni.

You: "That's all any of us can do, you know," Lestrade reassured him, nudging his shoulder. When they got to his car, Lestrade leaned over and mouthed lightly at Mycroft's ear. "But for now, how about we head home? I've got some plans I'd like to indulge in with you."

Stranger: Mycroft moaned quietly and leaned up into Greg's touch, his eyes falling closed as his free hand took Greg's waist. "Sounds perfect, dear," he breathed, pulling Greg in for a breathless kiss.

You: "Did you drive or did you take a cab this morning?" Lestrade whispered, his breath ghosting over Mycroft's lips. "Because if you took a cab, you are getting into my car and we are going home."

Stranger: "Drove," Mycroft growled, rolling his eyes. "I'm parked about ten minutes that way." He nodded in the direction of his car. He didn't want to leave Greg yet, not to drive home, not to walk to his car, nothing.

You: Lestrade groaned but pressed a hard kiss to Mycroft's lips. "Go, drive," he said shortly, kissing Mycroft one more time before nudging him in the direction of his car. "I'll drive home and be waiting for you."

Stranger: "Fine," Mycroft growled, kissing Greg once more before, regretfully, letting go. He watched over his shoulder as Greg climbed into his car and drove away before starting the ten minute walk to his own car, wishing he hadn't parked so far away.

You: Lestrade drove carefully but quickly, making it back home in about twenty minutes. He had just enough time to get everything set up. Grabbing the handcuffs he'd fantasized about earlier, Lestrade headed into the house with a grin on his face.

\-------------------------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: Sherlock woke up slowly to someone gently shaking his shoulder. He looked over to see John, who was nicely sunburned on half his face. Sherlock could only guess he had fallen asleep on his side, and he dreaded to see what he looked like. "Sleep okay?" he muttered, sitting up and wincing at the pain that went through his hurt arm as he, stupidly, put pressure on it.

You: "Fairly well, other than the slight sunburn," John said ruefully, his fingertips touching his cheek gently. "Apparently, I've been out of the sun for too long. Anyway, rescue boats are here. We need to get going."

Stranger: "Alright," Sherlock said, blinking the sleep away. "I see you fell asleep on your side. Sorry if holding my hand caused that."

You: John shook his head and stretched carefully, grimacing as his shoulder twinged in pain. "I tend to sleep on my side," John explained, standing up and looking towards the front of the boat where there was a line of people waiting to disembark. "How'd you sleep, Sherlock?"

Stranger: "Fine," Sherlock asked, standing and holding his hand out behind him for John to take as he looked over the crowds. "Do you know where we're supposed to go?"

You: "I think just in line," John said, taking Sherlock's hand and remembering a time when they hadn't had a choice when they needed to run. He'd enjoyed holding Sherlock's hand then though getting smashed into a fence the detective could just jump over hadn't been pleasant. "The engineer is helping coordinate with the crews of the rescue boats."

Stranger: "Alright," Sherlock nodded, pulling John close to his side and holding him there as they walked. He wanted to be as close to John as possible. Maybe he was just protective after what just happened, but he didn't want anyone to get between them.

You: As they made it to the front of the line of passengers, Smith the engineer turned to them and smiled gruffly. "Seems you two merit special treatment for capturing the saboteurs; you get a boat all to yourself."

Stranger: "Really?" Sherlock asked, looking at John with raised eyebrows. "Who would have sent it?"

You: "Dunno," Smith replied, shrugging. "All I know is that the government sent the rescue boats. Kinda handy considering that I wasn't expecting an answer to my mayday for at least another day. At least that's the they told me."

Stranger: "The government?" John asked, giving Sherlock a glance. "Do you think Mycroft knows that we're-" He cut himself off and bothered his bottom lip.

You: "You're next, gentlemen," Smith interrupted, waving them forward and into a small boat. "And thank you again for saving the ship. It was a good thing that you both did and I'm glad you weren't seriously injured."

Stranger: Sherlock, without another word, wrapped an arm around John's middle and guided him onto the boat. It was small, but not too terribly so. Sherlock lead John to a couple of seats and sat down, waiting for John to do the same.

You: John waved goodbye to Smith and settled himself down on the bench seat. This boat was slightly finer than the other rescue boats; it actually had a small cabin down below that John could partially see into from his seat. "I didn't want to say anything in front of everyone else," John began, his honor showing through in his words. "But do you think it's Mycroft? It's a little odd that we get special treatment like this."

Stranger: "There's no doubt in my mind," Sherlock said, shaking his head. He sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes. "This means that... he knows you found me, John. He knows that you know who I am."

You: "And this is what he does?" John asked quizzically as the boat moved away from the ferry. He waved a hand to take in the cabin and the fact that they were the only two on board. "This seems like, I don't know, like he's giving permission or something. I would have expected his agents to kidnap us both in big black cars."

Stranger: "I don't know what he's doing," Sherlock said, looking around the boat. "I don't know what he'll do once we get back to London. He may let us be or he may tell us to stay apart until he can build my reputation back up like we had already planned. I don't know. But until we get back, there's nothing more we can do. What do you say we go down to the cabin and just relax or something?"

You: "Sounds like a good plan, Sherlock," John said, sitting up and walking towards the front. "Let me just talk to the captain for a moment," John called back. "You head down and I'll meet you."

Stranger: Sherlock was confused on what John needed to talk to the captain for but did as he was told, going down to the cabin and taking the stairs down.

You: John tapped the captain on the shoulder to let the man know he was there and waited until he was acknowledged. "I'm just wondering what orders from Mycroft you have regarding us?" John asked, betting that if he used Mycroft's name, the captain may very well confirm his involvement.

Stranger: "I've been told to bring you back to London," the man shrugged with a heavy Scottish accent. "But not before ye get your three days you were promised."

You: "Three days?" John repeated tilting his head. It couldn't be coincidence that the time they were being given was how long the voyage was going to take. "Who told you?"

Stranger: "Myc'oft of course," the captain said, eyeing John for a moment. "Why do ya ask?"

You: "Curiosity mainly," John said, nodding his thanks to the captain. "I'm assuming there's food and things down below?"

Stranger: "Yes, sir," the captain nodded. "Stocked enough for a week, at least. Enjoy all ya want."

You: "Thank you," John said, nodding again. He walked carefully back to the stairwell, moving with the rocking of the boat. He headed downstairs, tripping on the last one and falling, sprawling, over the bed and Sherlock. "Sorry about that," John muttered, collecting himself.

Stranger: Sherlock felt the air leave him as John's elbow dug into his stomach on impact, but he forced a smile. "It's fine," he breathed, panting slightly. "You okay?"

You: "I'm not the one who was landed on," John replied with a self-deprecating smile. "I know I hit something on you. Are you all right, love?" He sat up and ran his eyes over Sherlock, noting that the detective was panting as if he couldn't breathe well.

Stranger: "Fine," Sherlock huffed out, watching as John looked him over with a worried expression. "What?"

You: "I can tell you're having a hard time breathing," John said quietly, moving towards Sherlock and pressing on his chest and stomach lightly. "Where did I hit you? I felt my elbow hit something soft."

Stranger: "My stomach," Sherlock said, watching John poke him gently. "John, what are you trying to find?"

You: John just shook his head and kept pressing on Sherlock's stomach. Once he was sure there was no lasting damage, he leaned forward and kissed Sherlock lightly. "I just wanted to make sure you weren't hurt," John explained, cupping Sherlock's cheek. "I fell rather heavily."

Stranger: "You were fine," Sherlock said, shaking his head and taking deeper breaths to try and gain what he'd lost back. "The pain will subside and I'll be fine. Nothing to worry over."

You: "Good," John replied, smiling fondly at Sherlock. "I spoke with the captain and he did confirm that Mycroft is behind this. And we apparently have this boat for three days before he returns us to London. Food and things are stocked, if you're hungry."

Stranger: "Not yet, maybe in a little bit here," he said, sitting up and forcing John to sit in his lap. He backed up till his back was against the wall. "Now, are you okay?" He asked, rubbing gently at John's hurt shoulder. "How does this feel?"

You: John hissed for a second in an automatic reaction as soon as Sherlock touched his shoulder but he found it didn't really hurt. He relaxed against Sherlock and closed his eyes. "I'm okay," John said quietly. "I didn't land on that shoulder thankfully. And that feels wonderful. I only hope there're painkillers on board. Three days without them would hurt a lot."

Stranger: Sherlock frowned before shifting John enough that he could move out from under him. "Let me look," he muttered, going to the cabinets and starting to look through them.

You: John joined him after carefully getting up from the bed, favoring his wounded shoulder. It was a familiar move, one that had John grimacing at old and painful memories. At the back of one of the cabinets, John found a bottle of aspirin and shook it. It was nearly full and would work well. "Found some," he said, brandishing the bottle at Sherlock. "Can we get back to what we were doing now?"

Stranger: "And that would be?" Sherlock asked, letting a small smile appear on his lips as he moved over to John and pulled him close by the hips. "Reminder?"

You: "You know, I think you had your hands on me with a few too many clothes," John replied, chuckling as he wrapped an arm around Sherlock's waist. "What do you think?"

Stranger: Sherlock slipped his hands under John's shirt with a chuckle, running his finger tips gently across his skin. "I think you may be right," he whispered.

You: "So what do you think we should do about that?" John asked, leaning forward until his lips were almost touching Sherlock's. "Have any ideas?"

Stranger: "A few," he growled, pushing on John gently until he started to back up. "But we have to be careful."

You: "Why's that?" John asked, moving backwards as Sherlock walked with him. He waited until the back of his legs hit the bed then sat down. John looked up at Sherlock as he cupped the man's hips, pulling him closer.

Stranger: Sherlock traced the outline of the bandage on John's shoulder. "I'm not hurting you further. We're going to be careful." Sherlock stepped up between John's legs and smiled down at the doctor, running his fingers through his hair.

You: John nodded and started slowly undoing the buttons on Sherlock's shirt. Once he could reach the skin that was revealed, John pressed gentle kisses and licks along Sherlock's stomach. He headed further down, teasing at the waistband of Sherlock's pants.

Stranger: Sherlock arched into John's touch, letting his eyes fall closed. He ran his hands down and under John's jumper, pulling it up till it was pooled just under his arms.

You: "If you want this off, I'm going to need your help," John murmured, looking up at Sherlock's face. He took a moment to enjoy the breathless enjoyment on the other man. It felt good to know he'd caused it. John felt like it made Sherlock his. "I can't really lift my left arm with this wound without it hurting."

Stranger: "Here," Sherlock muttered back, kneeling down between John's knees. He stretched the cotton enough to work John's right arm through gently before slipping it down his head. He slowly slid it over John's left arm, his eyes caressing John's now naked skin as he did so.

You: John let his hands wander once his jumper was off, sliding the unbuttoned shirt off Sherlock's shoulders and down his arms. His fingers made the return trip trailing gently over Sherlock's skin until John reached Sherlock's shoulders again. Then, he cupped the nape of Sherlock's neck and pulled him in for a teasing kiss, nipping at Sherlock's bottom lip.

Stranger: Sherlock moaned shamelessly as tilted his head to allow John more access. His hands trailed up John's legs, stopping just on the inside of his thighs, keeping himself balanced.

You: John was content to let the kiss stay light, his tongue licking over Sherlock's lips after light bites on them. He pulled back for a moment to breathe, satisfaction and desire rippling through him when he looked at the red, swollen lips his attentions had caused. "What do you want to try this time?" John asked, fingers playing with the strands of hair at the base of Sherlock's head.

Stranger: "What haven't we tried yet?" Sherlock asked, warmth pooling in his stomach as he saw John's red swollen lips and older bruises from the night before. John was so beautifully marked.

You: "How about this?" John asked, pushing on Sherlock's shoulders until the other man stood. Slowly undoing the button and zipper on Sherlock's pants, John slid them down enough so that Sherlock's half-hard erection was free. With a final look up at Sherlock, John leaned forward and licked at the head before taking it into his mouth.

Stranger: Sherlock felt his legs go numb and his knees then threatened give out at any second. "Oh god," Sherlock moaned, gripping John's shoulder for support.

You: John hummed as he slid more of Sherlock's erection into his mouth. He could feel the detective hardening quickly as he licked over the underside of the shaft. Though Sherlock was wavering on his feet and John reluctantly pulled back. "You should lie down," John told Sherlock, voice hoarse. "Don't want you falling now."

Stranger: "M-maybe we should just... You know, switch positions. I sit and you stand?" Sherlock ran his fingers through John's hair, tugging on it just a little.

You: "All right," John replied, smiling. He pushed back on Sherlock's stomach until the other man stepped back then stood. John maneuvered carefully in the small space, clearing the way for Sherlock to sit on the bed.

Stranger: Sherlock let John push him down onto the bed, spreading his legs for John as he sat. He moved his hands up to John's hips, giving him a small squeeze and smiling when John's stomach gave way just a bit under his thumbs. "Love you," he muttered, squeezing his sides again.

You: "I love you, Sherlock," John replied, kneeling down between Sherlock's legs and pressing a gentle kiss to his lips. He trailed down to Sherlock's neck, swiping his tongue over the muscles and down to his collarbone.

Stranger: Sherlock hummed as he felt John's lips against the skin of his neck. "Keep going," he moaned, his head rolling back to give John more room.

You: John laughed but continued, swiping his tongue down from the center of Sherlock's collarbone. He headed down his chest and stomach, watching as Sherlock arched up into his touch. When he reached Sherlock's erection again, John blew gently on the tip before licking around the head.

Stranger: Sherlock whimpered when John blew across the head of his erection and yelped as John's tongue brushed him quickly. He arched his hips in John's direction, his eyes falling closed. "Please," he muttered, his voice raw. "Please... please..."

You: John didn't tease anymore, giving Sherlock a bit of mercy. Slowly, he took more of Sherlock's erection into his mouth, sucking and licking as he went. He enjoyed the noises the other man was making and wondered how long it would take until he was incoherent this time.

Stranger: Sherlock moaned quietly as John's mouth created a wet heat around his erection, slowly coming down on him and taking more and more in between those beautiful pink lips. "John," he whispered, his hands balling into the sheets on the bed beside him. "God... John."

You: John hummed as he looked up at Sherlock, knowing the vibrations would drive the other man crazy. He slid back up, dipping his tongue into the hole on the tip and tasting a salty bitterness. He swallowed again and teased his fingers over Sherlock's balls.

Stranger: Sherlock arched his hips up off the bed, his toes curling in the pleasure that coursed through his body. He let a few moans pass his lips as John's fingers teased him and his tongue ran along the sensitive skin. "God..." he whispered, his eyes rolling back in his head. "God... John.."

You: Starting to move in earnest, John slid back down on Sherlock's erection. He was finished with teasing. Setting a quick pace, John bobbed up and down, swallowing as he reached the base again. He cupped Sherlock's balls and rolled them in his hand, matching the pace of his mouth.

Stranger: Sherlock gasped as John picked up the pace. His mouth opened in a silent moan and his head rolled back on his shoulders. "J-John," he gasped.

You: John hummed again, lips stretching into a semblance of a smile around Sherlock's erection. Looking up, he could see Sherlock's hair splayed out over the pillow as his head whipped around. Moving even faster, John could feel a slight trembling take over Sherlock's legs.

Stranger: Sherlock's hand found its way to John's hair, gripping at it painfully as he moaned to the ceiling. His eyes closed in pleasure as a small tremble overtook his body.

You: John squeezed his eyes closed as Sherlock pulled at his hair, tears springing into his eyes. It was painful but John was surprised to find he enjoyed it. Wondering how much more Sherlock would be able to handle, John slid his other hand underneath Sherlock and eased a finger around his entrance.

Stranger: Sherlock bucked back while still trying to keep his erection in John's mouth. His hands squeezed at the hair between his fingers and he tugged forward towards him to get John closer. "God..." he whispered, barely a passing of breath. "John..."

You: Shifting forward a little bit, John used his shoulders to push Sherlock's legs apart a little further. Still working his mouth over Sherlocks erection, John gently slipped the tip of his finger inside him. He rested there for a few minutes, teasing again.

Stranger: Sherlock rolled his hips, trying to get John's mouth on him more and his finger deeper. He moaned slightly went John paused his finger. "Please..."

You: John obliged Sherlock's plea and pushed inside him until he'd reached his last knuckle. John pulled back to twirl his tongue around the head again, sucking hard.

Stranger: "Naaah.... More!" Sherlock panted, his eyes rolling back in his head. He lay back on his elbows, spreading his legs wider for John. "M-more..."

You: John hummed again and watched Sherlock writhe on the bed. Slowly, he pushed another finger inside Sherlock to join his first one and pumped faster. John bobbed back down on Sherlock's erection, tongue laving over the underside of the shaft.

Stranger: Sherlock froze, his muscles tensing at the mix of pleasure that came through him. He moaned deeply, his arms wobbling under his weight.

You: John was confused for a moment when he felt Sherlock freeze, looking up at the detective. What he saw had his own erection twitching in excitement: Sherlock's head thrown back and his mouth wide open. The sight made John that much more determined to make this something Sherlock was never going to forget.

Stranger: Sherlock moaned to the ceiling, hoping to edge John on more. He spread his legs even farther apart, his toes curling under him and his legs hooking around the bed. "J-John..." he breathed.

You: John added a third finger to the ones already deep inside Sherlock. He pumped quickly, curling his fingers to reach the nerves he knew were there. When Sherlock moaned again, John hummed in response and moved at a steady pace over Sherlock's erection. Sucking hard, John wondered how long it would take Sherlock to come from the sensations.

Stranger: Sherlock moaned loudly, his senses focused completely on John's mouth around his erection and fingers inside him. He couldn't believe the amount of pleasure that was over taking him just from those touches, but it felt amazing and he wished John would do more.

You: Needing a moment to breathe, John pulled back and smiled at Sherlock. "You look gorgeous like this," he murmured, pressing a kiss to Sherlock's hip.

Stranger: "I-I'm close," Sherlock muttered, feeling warmth pool in his stomach. "Please, love, don't stop now... Please..."

You: John nodded and dipped his head back down. He matched the rhythm of his mouth with his fingers again, shifting a little closer to Sherlock. He could feel the trembling intensify as he reached the base of Sherlock's erection and swallowed.

Stranger: Sherlock moaned loudly followed by a deep groan as he came closer to his orgasm. His fingers once again found their way into John's hair, tugging him forward slightly.

You: John held back against the pull, the slight lick of pain arousing him further. He moaned a little bit and started pumping harder with his fingers. There was a stronger flavor coating his tongue now as he licked over Sherlock's erection and John lapped eagerly.

Stranger: "I-I'm gonna..." Sherlock trailed off in favor of moaning loudly. He shuttered as his orgasm got closer. "J-John..."

You: John hummed again and swirled his tongue around the head of Sherlock's erection. He wanted to be able to taste everything. Looking up, John met Sherlock's eyes and held him there.

Stranger: "J-Jo- ahhhh," Sherlock groaned, his head falling back and his mouth opening as his eyes fell shut and his orgasm burst from him. He pumped his hips shallowly into John's throat, keeping his fingers twisted in his locks.

You: John slowed his fingers as Sherlock orgasmed, the salty flavor invading his mouth. The fluid had a hint of something dark and spicy and John wondered how that could possibly happen. But it was Sherlock, so he didn't think about it too much. He licked and sucked Sherlock gently through his orgasm and once the last spasm passed, John removed his fingers and sat up. "You look boneless," John observed, chuckling quietly.

Stranger: Sherlock chuckled and collapsed back onto the bed, sweat coating his skin. He patted the bed next to him for John to join him and waited, hoping John understood.

You: John smiled and crawled up next to Sherlock. He threw an arm over the other man's chest and a leg over Sherlock's, pulling him close and cuddling into him. John's fingers idly traced over the muscles of Sherlock's arm as they breathed quietly.

Stranger: "How's your shoulder, love?" Sherlock asked quietly, his throat feeling scratchy from the moaning and screaming.

You: "A bit sore," John replied, kissing Sherlock's neck. "I wasn't exactly gentle with it just now. But it's not too bad. I like your voice like that, you know. It sounds dangerous."

Stranger: "May be dangerous," Sherlock chuckled, leaning over to kiss John's lips. "But you should come anyway." He smiled at the joke and pulled John closer, minding his shoulder. He rubbed just above it gently before leaning over John and kissing the wound.

You: "You always have me with the word dangerous," John whispered, closing his eyes and relaxing. Somehow, the gentle kiss was helping the pain the wound, though it was most likely mostly in John's head. He wasn't going to argue, though. "What do you have planned that might be dangerous, Sherlock?"

Stranger: "Living with me, for starters," Sherlock said, nuzzling John's neck. "Following me, helping me solve cases, blogging about it. Do you think you could handle all that? It takes a very special man to be able to keep up. And it's all very dangerous."

You: "Sounds interesting," John replied, purposefully sounding a bit bland about it all. He tilted his head to the side a little so that Sherlock had a little more room. "What do I get for doing all this?"

Stranger: "What do you want?" Sherlock asked, nibbling on the skin just below John's ear.

You: "You know, I think I'd like the bedroom on the first floor," John replied, laughing. "And you. I definitely think I would like you."

Stranger: "And what will it take to make it so you never leave after we're married?" Sherlock asked, chuckling gently and biting down harder on John's neck

You: John gasped, his body arching into Sherlock's. He was momentarily speechless as Sherlock worked his skin between his teeth. "I...I... don't.... know," John finally groaned, fingers tightening on Sherlock's arm. "I think married... pretty much covers not... not leaving."

Stranger: "I just want to ensure you'll always be at my side," Sherlock whispered, working the skin more, going up to suck on John’s earlobe. "I can't stand life without you. Three years was enough."

You: "You don't have to worry," John panted, little moans tumbling from his mouth. "Please, Sherlock, I can't stand the teasing."

Stranger: "Then tell me what you want," Sherlock whispered into his ear, licking the shell. "What will make you stay longer?"

You: John opened his eyes and turned his head so he could meet Sherlock's. "I want you to fuck me," he whispered, a challenge in his voice. "I want you to make me forget everything but your name when I scream it. Can you do that to me, Sherlock? Make me forget everything but you?"

Stranger: Sherlock looked deep into John's eyes for a moment before pushing his lover slightly until John was on his stomach and Sherlock was sitting on his lover back. "I can try," he whispered right into John's ear, running his nails up and down John's back slowly.

You: John arched back against Sherlock again, groaning loudly at the touch. He looked over his shoulder, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Then do it," John said, winking. "I want you, Sherlock."

Stranger: "Right now?" Sherlock smiled knowingly, pushing the head of his erection into John's hole before stopping and waiting. "Or do you need something else first?"

You: "Yeah, probably a good idea to wait a bit," John grumbled, rolling his eyes. A little pain was good but a lot was definitely not. "Though I do enjoy having your fingers in me."

Stranger: Sherlock pushed in just a fraction farther before, very slowly, pulling out. "You feel so good unprepared, love," Sherlock whispered, placing one of his fingers to John's lips. "Suck."

You: John pulled the finger into his mouth, swirling his tongue around it and getting it wet. He made sure to coat the entire thing with saliva, keeping his eyes fixed on Sherlock as he licked.

Stranger: Sherlock, eyes locked on John, slowly pumped his finger in John's mouth. He chuckled as John sucked before placing a second finger on John's lip and waiting for him to take that one as well.

You: John opened his mouth and waited. He was going to make Sherlock work for some of this. He managed a grin around the finger still in his mouth and licked the side as he watched Sherlock.

You: John nodded, eyes dilating with lust. He swiped his tongue over Sherlock's over finger several times, getting it just as wet as the first one.

Stranger: Sherlock slowly and shallowly started pumping his fingers into John's mouth. He hummed as John licked at his digits and dipped down to start nibbling on John's neck.

You: John moaned around Sherlock's fingers as he nibbled on his neck, arching his head so Sherlock could reach more of his skin. John slipped his tongue between Sherlock's two fingers, letting them slide over it on each thrust.

Stranger: Sherlock slipped a third finger in and pushed them as far as John would let him. He bit down on the skin, sucking as he ran his tongue over it.

You: John licked Sherlock's fingers again, moaning as Sherlock licked over his neck. It felt really good and John arched back against Sherlock again. This was nice but he wanted more.

Stranger: "John?" Sherlock growled into the skin, his voice deep with lust. "What do you want from me? Tell me." He ran one of his fingers over the roof of John's mouth.

You: John let the fingers slip out of his mouth, tongue running over his lips as he did so. "I already told you, Sherlock," John murmured back, letting his hips move underneath him. "Have you forgotten already, love?"

Stranger: Sherlock pressed one slicked finger against John entrance, not daring to dip lower. "I want to hear it again."

You: "I want you to fuck me," John repeated, growling the words out. "I want you to stop teasing me." He looked over his shoulder at Sherlock, annoyance and desire on his face.

Stranger: "You don't like the teasing?" Sherlock asked, pushing his finger in to the first knuckle then pulling back out to play around the entrance again. "Spread for me."

You: John repositioned himself, spreading his legs apart. He moaned as Sherlock continued to trace around his entrance and pushed back towards him. "Better?" he asked.

Stranger: Sherlock smiled and pecked John's back. "Much," he whispered against the skin, giving John a small bite as he pushed his finger in. "God you're beautiful."

You: "Yes," John hissed, not hearing what Sherlock was saying. The only thing registering was the bite and Sherlock's finger as it made its way deeper inside him. "That's it, Sherlock. More, god more."

Stranger: "So beautiful," Sherlock whispered, reaching the final knuckle and bending his finger slightly. "Keep talking; I love listening to you beg."

You: John muffled the scream that bubbled out of his throat against the pillow in front of him. His hips moved without conscious direction, pumping back against Sherlock's finger. "Please, I need you," John murmured. "So good inside me, harder, I need it harder."

Stranger: Sherlock paused his finger deep inside of John, bending it and chuckling. He leaned over and placed a kiss between John's shoulders. "You want it hard?" he growled, a smile crossing his lips.

You: "Yes," John replied, nodding eagerly. "Come on, Sherlock, I'm not going to break. Show me dangerous."

Stranger: Sherlock smiled at that and pushed two more fingers quickly into John, skipping completely over the second. "How's that?" he asked right into John's ear. "Better? Dangerous?"

You: John keened loudly, mouth open wide as the sound erupted from it. He arched up almost completely off the bed, pushing himself into Sherlock. "Fuck yes," John growled, turning his head to capture Sherlock's lips. "More."

Stranger: Sherlock bit at John's lips, kissing him hard. "You like?" he growled into the kiss. "You want more? Do you want it harder?"

You: "Please," John begged before thrusting his tongue into Sherlock's mouth. He wrapped one hand over Sherlock's neck to hold him close while bracing himself on the other. Still moving sinuously, John proceeded to tell Sherlock exactly what he wanted by fucking his mouth with his tongue. There was nothing gentle in it, just rough and filthy as their teeth clicked and tongues dueled.

Stranger: "Please, John," Sherlock whispered, biting at his lip. He slipped a fourth finger in and pumped slowly

You: "What, Sherlock?" John panted. The fourth finger had him gritting his teeth against pain and pleasure, his hips rolling hard against the bed. The friction of the sheet on his erection and Sherlock's fingers were almost enough to make him come, but John didn't want to. Not yet.

Stranger: "I... I don't know," Sherlock breathed, biting John's neck. "Love you, John." He pumped his fingers faster, wrapping one leg around John's.

You: "Love you," John gasped, a moan working out between his words. "Please, Sherlock, need you. Want you inside me when I come."

Stranger: Sherlock pressed his thumb to John's hole and pushed gently. "Do you want it?" he asked, knowing John knew what he was trying to hint. "Do you?"

You: "Please," John nodded, raising his hips up off the bed. "Please, Sherlock." He knew it would hurt but it would feel really good at the same time. And exploring something new with Sherlock definitely was arousing.

Stranger: Sherlock pushed in the fifth finger and pushed until his thumb was at the first knuckle. He paused when John moaned loudly in what seemed to be pain. "Are you okay?" he whispered.

You: "Just... just wait... a minute," John replied, his body shivering from the invasion. "Oh, god, Sherlock. This feels.... oh god." As John felt himself stretching around Sherlock's fingers, the muscles holding him up gave out and he dropped back to the bed. It wasn't that far and Sherlock followed him, the pain fading away. "Okay, go ahead," John groaned, looking over his shoulder to meet Sherlock's eyes.

Stranger: "Are you sure, love?" Sherlock whispered, moving his fingers slightly, just to watch John's reaction. "Tell me how you feel. Tell me, in detail."

You: John gave another strangled scream as Sherlock moved and clenched his fists on the sheet. "So tight," he finally said when he caught his breath. "I can feel every inch of your fingers. It hurt at first but now it feels... amazing. God, Sherlock, more please."

Stranger: "As I push my hand farther in, you realize it's just going to get tighter, right?" Sherlock whispered. He pushed his hand another inch in. "You need to talk to me as I do this. I don't want to hurt you too badly."

You: "I know," John told him, nodding. "Talking is getting... difficult. Don't worry about hurting me. You feel so... good inside me. Have to hold back... so I don't.... come just... from this."

Stranger: Sherlock pushed in further, watching as John screamed and withered beneath him. "Talk to me," he whispered, rubbing John's back with his free hand

You: "I'm so hard, Sherlock," John breathed, hips moving in tiny thrusts. "You should feel this, want to do this to you. I think... if you touched my cock, I'd come so hard. This kind of teasing... feels amazing."

Stranger: Sherlock pushed his fingers all the way to the last knuckle. "Should I keep going?" he asked, spreading his fingers.

You: As Sherlock spoke, John screamed at the sensations running through him. He couldn't help it, the sound wrenched from his throat as the other man moved. "God yes," John yelped on his next breath. "Fuck, Sherlock, please." His hips moved more now, pressing back hard against Sherlock's fingers to pull more of them inside.

Stranger: "Hold still, love," he whispered, pressing down on John's lower back. He slide his hand all the way in, fisting his hand inside of John. "Talk to me. Talk."

You: John nodded his head, incapable of words for the moment. His chest heaved as Sherlock stopped moving, his entire hand inside him. It felt wonderful. "Good," John whispered, the only word he was capable of. John continued to hold still, keeping to Sherlock's sort-of order.

Stranger: Sherlock pushed his fist farther into John. "Talk to me. Need to know if you're okay." He kissed John's lower back, smiling as he did do. "You look so beautiful."

You: " 'M okay," John moaned. "God, Sherlock, need to come. So close." He couldn't stop the little thrusts his hips started making, a groan escaping him at each movement.

Stranger: Sherlock reached around and pinched the base of John's erection, blocking his orgasm. "Don't," he whispered, pouting slightly. "I want to keep teasing you. Please... don't come yet."

You: "Oh, god," John groaned breathlessly. He pumped against Sherlock's hand and whimpered, needing the denied release. "Please, Sherlock. Please."

Stranger: Sherlock twisted his fist inside John, pushing it down slightly. "Love, please, wait," Sherlock whispered, biting John's neck once again, sucking on it till there was a mark

You: "O... okay," John murmured, writhing slightly as Sherlock moved. He forced himself to relax, as difficult as it was. But John trusted Sherlock. "Do what you want, then."

Stranger: Sherlock smiled and pulled his fist as far up as it would go before pushing it, slowly, back down. He kept the pace agonizingly slow and bit at John's neck as he went, sucking love bites into the skin.

You: John continued to moan and scream, moving slightly with Sherlock. He wasn't able to speak now, only able to reassure Sherlock by reaching back and gripping his hip. His erection was throbbing now in Sherlock's hand, twitching in time with all of his other muscles.

Stranger: "This may hurt a little, love," Sherlock warned. He uncurled his fingers from the fist and stretched them out, watching John grip the sheets till his knuckles turned white. Sherlock placed a gentle kiss to John's back. "You're ok, love. I promise."

You: "I... know," John managed, squeezing hard on Sherlock's hip. "Fuck, Sherlock, you... have no idea what... this feels like." The sensations were turning more into pain and John held completely still as Sherlock shifted his fingers. It still felt good but he didn't want to lose the pleasure.

Stranger: "Maybe you can show me sometime," Sherlock whispered dangerously into John's ear, grinning widely as John moaned and shivered.

You: "Yeah," John whispered. "Want that. Please, Sherlock, do something. Need to come, need you. Please." John continued to ramble, words punctuated by gasps and little cries.

Stranger: Sherlock moaned and rubbed his erection up John's leg, the pre-come leaving a slick trail along the back of John's calf. "Can I try something else, love?" Sherlock whispered, licking the shell of John's ear before sucking in the lobe to nibble on.

You: "Yes," John nodded, tilting his head towards Sherlock. "What do you want to do?"

Stranger: Sherlock ran his erection farther up John's leg. "Relax for me, love," he whispered, running his erection over John's entrance before down between his legs and over his balls.

You: John nodded and tried to relax his muscles again. He was still trembling but he managed to loosen enough of them. And when Sherlock's erection slid over his balls, John gasped and pumped back against Sherlock.

Stranger: Sherlock chuckled into John's neck and rubbed his erection over John's balls a few more times, moving slowly to make it agonizing for him. "You feel so good, John," he whispered.

You: "Sherlock," John growled, his nails digging into Sherlock's hip. "Please, fuck, stop teasing. While that feels good, another part of me would like your cock more."

Stranger: "Oh? And where is that, John?" Sherlock chuckled, sucking his earlobe back between his teeth.

You: "You know... git," John replied fondly, moaning as Sherlock worried his ear again. "I think you've... neglected my cock long enough. Need to come so bad, Sherlock."

Stranger: "Calling me a git won't get you anywhere fast, love," Sherlock purred, squeezing the base of John's erection a bit harder. He nibbled on John's ear lightly, running his tongue over it.

You: John screamed again, the sound hoarse and strangled from the abuse his throat had taken up to this point. He laughed and nodded. "You have a point, love," John panted. "What would you... rather I say? I want you to... rub your cock... against mine... and wrap your fingers around us.... until we both come all over... this bed?"

Stranger: "Now, is that a question-" Sherlock paused and ran his hand down John's cock, running his finger over the slit on the top and through the pre-come, "-or do you really want me to do that?"

You: "Yes, want that," John moaned, bucking back against Sherlock. Only the hand still wrapped around the base of his erection was keeping him from coming right now. "Please, Sherlock, need you."

Stranger: Sherlock pushed his hips down till his abdomen was pressed against John's butt. He shifted his hips till he felt his erection brush John's. He wrapped his hand around the both of them and started to slowly pump. He twisted his fist in John and flexed his fingers. "Like that?"

You: John nodded eagerly, moving his hips in time with Sherlock's hands. He was almost ready to break down at the sheer relief being touched gave him and more moans tumbled from his mouth. "Gonna come," John whimpered, his head drooping between his shoulders. "Sherlock, gonna..."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and kissed John's neck. "Then go ahead," he whispered deeply. "Please, do."

You: John finally stopped holding back as Sherlock removed his hand. After a couple more strokes, John felt his orgasm start deep in his belly. On a scream that contained Sherlock's name, John orgasmed hard. As the milky fluid spurted out of him, John could feel his entire body trembling with the shocks. Sherlock stroking both of them kept it going and John lost track of time as his body continued to release.

Stranger: Sherlock continued to pump both of his hands, his fist deep inside of John. The tensing of John's muscles around his wrist made it hard to keep pumping, forcing them to be shallow. He milked John of his orgasm and was surprised to find that, even after his orgasm, John's muscles were still tense and tight.

You: John panted heavily, barely able to catch his breath as he came down from his orgasm. He didn't dare let his muscles go completely lax as they threatened to; Sherlock was still inside him and John didn't want that feeling to change to pain. "Sherlock," John murmured, looking over his shoulder. "When... when you orgasm, I need you to pull out of me slowly. It's too much now, too much pressure."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and leaned over to kiss John gently on the lips. "You were beautiful," he whispered into the kiss. "Still are." He continued to pump his hand slowly, trying to build his orgasm once again. He felt like he just came only a few minutes ago, so it was going to take a bit more time. "Can you relax at all? Or is it too much?"

You: "No, I can," John replied quietly. His breathing had started to even out now and a warm glow was taking over his body. Reaching down between their legs, John let his fingers trace slowly over Sherlock's erection. "Let me help you," he continued. "Want to touch you."

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and shifted so it was easier for John to touch him. As John continued to brush his erection, Sherlock tried to pull his hand out a little and instantly felt John's muscles tense again in pain as he moaned.

You: After sucking in a deep breath, John said, "It's ok. It's going to hurt whenever you pull your hand out." He wrapped his fingers around Sherlock's erection, pumping slowly from base to tip. Once he reached the head, John swiped his thumb over the slit, spreading the pre-come that was gathering.

Stranger: "I'm sorry, love," Sherlock muttered, running one hand through John's hair in apology. He waited a few more minutes for John's muscles to relax again before he tried to pull out a bit farther. He moaned as John's hand tightened around his erection, pumping a bit harder than normal. 

You: John gritted his teeth until the widest part of Sherlock's hand had been pulled out of him. Immediately, the stretch wasn't as bad and no longer hurt. "Better now," John told Sherlock, pumping his hand a little faster. He heard Sherlock's breathing go ragged and grinned to himself. John loved that sound.

Stranger: Sherlock moaned loudly, his breathing coming in pants. "Once we're... done... I want.. to see how... much you're stretched," Sherlock panted, locking eyes with John, a gleam in his eyes as they coated over with lust. "I want to see... what I've done... to you."

You: John nodded, words momentarily stolen by the look in Sherlock's eyes. He continued to stroke over Sherlock's erection, sucking his bottom lip between his teeth and worrying at it. John knew that drove Sherlock crazy.

Stranger: Sherlock watched John as he bothered his lower lip, his tongue swiping over his own. He moaned loudly as John twisted his wrist at the top of his erection. "Keep doing that, I'm getting close."

You: "I want you to come for me, Sherlock," John murmured. He moved faster and pressed harder, watching Sherlock's face avidly.

Stranger: Sherlock opened his mouth in a silent 'oh' as pleasure started to pool in his gut. "C-close..." he moaned, his eyes closing as he dropped his head.

You: "That's it," John encouraged, keeping up his pace. "Want to see you come for me." He still enjoyed studying Sherlock's face while pleasuring him, the myriad expressions something John wanted to commit to memory.

Stranger: Sherlock moaned John's name loudly as he came, his hips thrusting forward into John's hand. "John!" He grunted as John continued to milk him of his orgasm.

You: "You're gorgeous like this," John said fondly. "All pliant and boneless. I love you, Sherlock." John stopped pumping his hand but didn't let go of Sherlock's softening cock. He caressed it gently, enjoying the contact.

Stranger: "Love you... John," Sherlock panted, smiling weakly and pulling John towards him. "That was amazing." He pressed a lazy kiss to John's lips and smiled. He was never going to get tired of doing that to him.

You: "Yes it was, love," John agreed, kissing Sherlock tiredly. "I think we need to clean up a bit, though. Did you see if there was a bathroom or something down here?"

Stranger: "I did, yes," Sherlock nodded before smiling. "But I want to see you first. Or, if you let me clean you..."

You: "That sounds fun," John replied, wriggling out from under Sherlock and turning to pull the other man into his arms. "I think I'll return the favor. Any excuse to get my hands on you, love."

Stranger: Sherlock smiled and laced their fingers together as he began to pull John down to the bathroom. He pushed John gently back till he hit the wall, than locked the door behind them. He wet a washcloth and turned back to John. "Turn around. I want to clean you as I see you. I want to see what I've done to you."

You: John turned, smiling as Sherlock spoke. This was probably the wordiest he'd seen the other man off a case and it was oddly thrilling. He jumped slightly when Sherlock first touched him, even though he was expecting it.

Stranger: Sherlock knelt down behind John and spread his cheeks, smiling as he saw the stretched muscle. He licked over it slowly as a tease before taking the washcloth and rubbing it slowly around the entrance.

You: John hmmed appreciatively as the cloth eased over his skin. "That feels good," John murmured, looking down over his shoulder. Seeing Sherlock on his knees was an arousing sight but John was far too tired to do anything more than enjoy it. "Like what you see, love?"

Stranger: "I really do," Sherlock hummed, smiling and kissing John's back. "You look so used and stretched and... amazing."

You: "I feel used and stretched," John commented, laughing. "Though we may not want to do that all that often. It's incredible but very intense."

Stranger: "I understand, love," Sherlock nodded, finishing cleaning John up and turning him around to do the front. "We'll talk before we do it again."

You: John rested his hands on Sherlock's shoulders as he leaned back against the wall. He leaned down and captured Sherlock's lips in a gentle kiss, smiling against him. Sliding one hand up, John tangled it in Sherlock's hair. John continued to kiss Sherlock as the other man wiped the cloth over his skin, chuckling when he felt his hand tremble.

Stranger: Sherlock dropped his hand to his lap as he kissed John, running his other hand up to the back of John's neck. He hummed into the kiss and tangled his fingers in the back of John's hair.

You: "Your turn," John whispered against Sherlock's lips, picking up the washcloth. He moved far enough away to rinse out the cloth and re-wet it with warm water. He smoothed it over Sherlock's chest, making his way down to his groin. With gentle swipes, John cleaned all the fluids off Sherlock's skin before moving to his hand. "Stand up with me, love," John told him, pulling gently on Sherlock's arms.

Stranger: Sherlock stood with John and watched as he maneuvered him around to the wall. He was backed into it and chuckled, leaning down to kiss John again.

You: John ran the water in the sink, waiting until it had warmed up. He pulled Sherlock's hand underneath it, letting water sluice over both of them. Picking up the soap, he worked it between his hands until suds spilled over into the sink. Then, John caressed both his hands over Sherlock's, stroking over his fingers individually.

Stranger: "What are you doing, love?" Sherlock chuckled, watching John in amusement.

You: "Washing your hand," John replied, glancing at Sherlock out of the corner of his eye. "Remember you had it inside me?"

Stranger: Sherlock chuckled and pecked John on the lips. "True, but, love, it was the other hand." Sherlock laughed harder when John paused and looked down at the hand, sighing.

You: John shook his head at himself and rinsed off the hand he was holding. Taking Sherlock's other hand, John held it under the water then gave it the same treatment with the soap the other one hand. "You could have mentioned something, love," John said, leaning up to press a kiss to Sherlock's jaw.

Stranger: "I didn't think you were aiming for that," Sherlock laughed, leaning down to catch John's lips. "I didn't know what you were doing."

You: John laughed and rinsed off both of their hands. He cupped Sherlock's face with the wet and dry one, watching water drip down into Sherlock's shoulders. "I love you," John said seriously, smiling a bit. "You have no idea how happy you've made me, giving me this last miracle."

Stranger: "You have no idea how happy you've made me giving me this chance. I didn't know if you would after what I've done to you," Sherlock said, placing his hands on John's biceps. "I was scared I'd never get you."

You: "That's not something you'll ever have to worry about," John promised. He leaned up and kissed Sherlock quickly then laughed. "Now why don't we go lay down again? I know I'm tired and you look tired too. Maybe there's a television or something we can watch."

Stranger: "That sounds perfect," Sherlock smiled, running one hand up to his face to lace his fingers with John's. "What would you want to watch?"

You: John smiled then pulled his hands away from Sherlock's face, taking the other man's hand with him. He led the way back to the bed, finding a remote in the little nightstand. "How about we see what's on?" John suggested, stretching out on the bed and patting the space next to him.

Stranger: Sherlock climbed into bed next to John and pulled his close to his side. He pressed a kiss to John's temple and chuckled.

You: John turned on the little television mounted in the corner and the sounds of a commercial filled the small space. He curled into Sherlock's side, idly flicking through channels as he pressed kisses to the side of Sherlock's neck. Three days of this was going to be heaven, John decided.

\------------------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: Mycroft reached home and shut down his car, locking the doors as he climbed out and made his way up to the building's entrance. He unlocked the front door and went to his place, unlocking that door and sighing as he closed the heavy wood behind him. It was always a relief to get home for Mycroft, now not being any different. He felt cold metal slip around his wrist partnered with a small click. Mycroft started and looked down, seeing the handcuff that had been looped around his wrist, the other end being held by Greg, who started tugging gently towards the bedroom, a dangerous, mysterious glint in his eyes just along the edges of the lust-dilated pupils.

You: Lestrade let the smirk tug his lips as he pulled Mycroft after him. Going by the look on his fiance's face, Mycroft was all for whatever he had planned. And that was a good thing, a very good thing. Lestrade had many ideas and he had a feeling they were going to be here for several hours. "Took you a while to get here," he said silkily, pulling Mycroft by the handcuffs into his arms. He nipped at Mycroft's ear and then licked over the bites. "I was getting worried I'd have to entertain myself."

Stranger: Mycroft shuddered at the lick and moaned lightly. "N-No," he managed, wrapping his free hand around Greg's waist. "I'm here. Sorry it took so long. Far walk. Someone left without me." He chuckled and nipped at Greg's neck playfully.

You: "I realized that about halfway home," Lestrade replied ruefully, pressing an apologetic kiss to Mycroft's temple. "Sorry, love." He started walking again, pulling Mycroft into the bedroom a step at a time. He rewarded each step with a stroke down Mycroft's back and a nip at the soft skin of his neck.

Stranger: "It's fine. I needed the exercise," Mycroft said, following Greg into the bedroom as he worked his neck and rubbed down his back. "Besides, I think you're going to make up for the lost time very easily." Mycroft chuckled and kissed Greg slowly on the lips, keeping the kiss light and playful. "Am I right, love?"

You: Lestrade kissed back, flicking his tongue against Mycroft's lips but not penetrating. "You are," he confirmed, turning them once they reached the bed. With a gently push, Lestrade got Mycroft on the bed and secured him by threading the cuffs through the wooden slats on their headboard and closing the cool metal around Mycroft's other hand. "You all right?" Lestrade asked, testing the cuffs. "Not too tight?"

Stranger: "No, they are fine," Mycroft said, pulling against the cuffs and finding how secure he really was in the cool metal. He smiled as Greg crawled up onto the bed and eyed him hungrily. "Now, what are you going to do about my shirt, love? You locked me up with it still on."

You: "Lucky for me, it's got buttons," Lestrade grinned. He worked the first button out of its hole slowly, making sure his fingers brushed over Mycroft's skin. Once it was free, he leaned down and licked at the skin while working on the second one. "I don't think I want you completely naked for this, love," Lestrade murmured thoughtfully.

Stranger: Mycroft moaned as Greg lapped at his skin, caressing it gently with his tongue. He arched slightly into the touch before finally comprehending Greg's words. "Is that so?" he muttered, letting his eyes fall closed and his lips to turn into a playful smirk. "Then what do you want, love?"

You: "It's different with clothes on, don't you agree?" Lestrade whispered, moving down as the next button popped open. "Desperate and quick. I want to ride you while you are still almost completely dressed. Would you like that?"

Stranger: "Yes," Mycroft nodded, a blush coloring his cheeks a light pink. "I want to watch you ride me while I can't do a thing about it. Use me, Gregory. Please, use me."

You: Lestrade flashed a dirty grin up to Mycroft before quickly finishing with the rest of the buttons. He continued to lick down Mycroft's abdomen, fingers making quick work of his pants. "You want me to tease?" Lestrade asked quietly, gently brushing his fingers over the skin above Mycroft's waistband. "Or do you want me, right now?"

Stranger: "Tease," Mycroft breathed, loving the feeling of Greg's fingers on his delicate skin. "Just tease me. I want to be surprised when you start riding me, love."

You: Lestrade nodded and slid Mycroft's pants and boxers down just enough to free his hardening erection. With teasing caresses, Lestrade traced the length of it, circling the head. He continued to press kisses to the skin above Mycroft's groin, moving ever closer to the base of his erection.

Stranger: Mycroft arched up off the bed to meet Greg's lips, his breathing becoming a pant. "Love," he whispered, smiling as Greg licked just along the coarse hair that surrounded Mycroft's base. "God, you feel nice."

You: "Just nice?" Lestrade teased, letting his breath ghost over Mycroft's skin. He pressed more firmly with his fingers, caging the head of Mycroft's erection and stroking down. When his hand reached the base, Lestrade squeezed a bit harder then slid back up.

Stranger: "Amazing!" Mycroft corrected quickly, yelping at the squeeze before moaning out in pleasure. "God... you're amazing. Please, love, please."

You: Lestrade chuckled then pressed his lips to the base of Mycroft's erection. He kissed gently, moving up the shaft as his fingers still played over the underside. When he reached the head, Lestrade licked over the slit several times until Mycroft was moaning beneath him. Only then did he sink down, slowly inching his mouth over Mycroft's erection until he'd reached the base again.

Stranger: Mycroft moaned and whimpered pathetically under Greg as he bobbed up and down on his erection. "Gregory, please," he begged, his eyes falling closed. "Love, keep- ahhh- keep going!"

You: Deliberately keeping his pace slow, Lestrade brought one hand up to cup Mycroft's balls. As he rolled them, he alternated licking with sucking, continuing to bob up and down. He hummed as Mycroft continued to moan, driving the other man as close to orgasm without going over as he could.

Stranger: Mycroft pulled at the handcuffs, wanting to reach down and touch Greg. He worked at the cuffs for a minute, trying to wiggle free before giving up and wrapping his legs around Greg's hips. "God, you're so good."

You: Lestrade kept sliding up and down for a few more minutes before pulling off with a wet pop. Licking his lips, Lestrade grinned at Mycroft and continued to roll his balls in his hand. "I'm glad you enjoy it," he murmured. "Now, I want you to watch me since you're a bit... tied up at the moment." He got up off the bed and pulled out the lube they kept in the top drawer of the nightstand. Flicking open the cap, Lestrade coated his fingers liberally then glanced at Mycroft.

Stranger: Mycroft opened his eyes and gasped as he watched Greg slip his hands behind him. "L-love? What are you-" his sentence was cut off as his words left him. Greg's mouth dropped open in a silent "oh" and Mycroft couldn't take his eyes off him. Just watching him brought him closer to his orgasm.

You: Lestrade circled around his entrance, slicking up his skin before sliding one finger inside. He let out an explosive breath as he worked it deeper, hips moving with his hand. "Mycroft," Lestrade whispered, catching the other man's eyes. "You want to see what I'm doing? Want to watch me stretch myself for you?"

Stranger: "Yes, love, yes," Mycroft panted, watching his lover's face. "Turn around, please, let me watch you. Please."

You: "I can do better than just turn around," Lestrade replied, slipping the finger out. Careful not to get the lube all over the sheets, he climbed back into bed and straddled Mycroft's legs, facing away from the other man. Lestrade leaned forward, bracing his weight on one hand while the other slipped back between his cheeks. "You like this?" he asked, pressing the finger back inside himself and arching.

Stranger: Mycroft gasped as he watched Greg's finger work in and out of the tight puckered hole. "God, you look so tight," Mycroft breathed, struggling to reach for Greg, to replace his finger with his own. "Fuck..."

You: "I am," Lestrade replied, glancing over his shoulder. "But I think I can work a second finger in. Do you want me to?" He continued to stroke in and out, little moans tumbling from his lips. Lestrade let his hips move with the rhythm, dragging the head of his erection over the sheets and Mycroft's legs.

Stranger: "Please," Mycroft nodded, gasping and panting as he watched. "You're so beautiful."

You: Lestrade pulled his first finger out then lined up two. He slowly pushed them inside, body curling in at the sensations. He started moving his hips a little faster as his fingers sank in all the way. Pushing them apart, Lestrade stretched himself until he had no problem sliding the two fingers in and out. "What do you think, love?" he groaned. "Am I open enough? Or do you want more fingers inside me?"

Stranger: "More, add more," Mycroft whispered, breathless as Greg worked himself. He wanted to lick at Greg, push his tongue inside alongside those fingers and taste Greg. He wanted the tight heat to surround his tongue and for him to map out the walls of his entrance. "Another, please."

You: "All right," Lestrade replied breathlessly. He pulled the two fingers almost all the way out then pushed three back in, a muffled scream working out of his mouth. He continued to mouth Mycroft's name as he thrust his fingers in deep. Wondering if he could hit his prostate from this direction, Lestrade curled his fingers and shouted as he found it. His hips bucked forward, spreading a line of pre-come over Mycroft's leg.

Stranger: Mycroft's erection gave an interested twitch as Greg screamed out a dry, rough scream. He licked his lips as he felt the line of pre-come spread over his leg and watched Greg shove three fingers in. "Push your fingers all the way in, wait, find your prostate and then twist," Mycroft panted, knowing what that would do to the other man.

You: Lestrade did as Mycroft ordered him, grazing his fingers over his prostate. "Oh yes," Lestrade hissed, his hips working against the motion of his hand. He repeated the motion over and over, the moans growing more and more desperate. "Want to ride you now," Lestrade gasped, pulling his fingers out and turning around. He used the lube and slicked up Mycroft's erection. "You ready, love?"

Stranger: "Yes, I- ahhhhh!" Mycroft screamed out as Greg slowly lowered himself onto Mycroft, his tight heat surrounding him. "Damn... Damn, Greg!"

You: Lestrade kept moving down, taking more of Mycroft inside him until he was sheathed completely. Pausing for a breath and to let his body get used to the intrusion, Lestrade leaned down to press a kiss to Mycroft's lips. "You feel perfect inside me," he whispered, nipping at Mycroft's bottom lip.

Stranger: "And you... Feel perfect around me," Mycroft panted out, smiling up at his lover. He arched his hips slightly, pushing up into Greg. "Now... Move, please, before you drive me crazy."

You: Lestrade laughed then rolled his hips, pulling up and pushing back down in long, smooth strokes. He braced his hands on Mycroft's shoulders as he rode, slowly picking up the pace. "God, Mycroft," Lestrade groaned, looking down at the handcuffs still holding Mycroft in place. "You are gorgeous, all spread out for me."

Stranger: "So glad that you like what you see," Mycroft said between pants. "You're so beautiful riding me like this. Panting. The way you gasp as you pull up each time." Mycroft shifted the handcuffs slightly. "You're so beautiful."

You: Lestrade leaned down again, licking into Mycroft's mouth with a groan as the shift changed the angle of Mycroft's erection. He started pumping harder, taking Mycroft in as deeply as he possibly could. "Can I fuck you after you come?" Lestrade murmured against Mycroft's lips. "I don't want to make myself come this time and I like you in those handcuffs."

Stranger: "Stop asking," Mycroft scolding, kissing at Greg's mouth. "I'm handcuffed, take some control. If you want to fuck me, what choice do I have? Fuck me till I come ten times over!"

You: "You have a point, love," Lestrade laughed. He continued to pump hard against Mycroft, kissing him deeply. Lestrade slid one hand down Mycroft's chest and tweaked a nipple, swallowing the moan Mycroft let out. He rolled the nipple between his fingers before switching to the other side and giving the other the same treatment. "Lift your knees up," Lestrade murmured.

Stranger: Mycroft did as he was told without asking why and raised his knees up, placing his feet flat on the ground. He used the new position and pushed up into Greg, chuckling when Greg moaned.

You: "That's it, love, keep moving against me," Lestrade groaned then shifted again. He leaned back, putting all his weight on his knees. Once he was braced on Mycroft's knees, Lestrade started pumping up and down, groaning at how deep Mycroft was inside him with this position. He watched his own erection bob with his movements and Mycroft's eyes as the other man watched him.

Stranger: "I want to taste you," Mycroft muttered, watching Greg's cock with interest. "I want to taste your pre-come as you ride me. Just a taste..."

You: "I want you to beg," Lestrade replied, wrapping his fingers around the head of his erection. "If you want to taste me, beg me for it." He smoothed his fingers over the slit and gathered some of the fluid, spreading it over the head of his erection.

Stranger: "Please, Gregory, let me taste you," Mycroft said, licking his lips. "I want to taste you on my lips as I watch you ride me. I want to have to clean you off of my face as I watch you fuck yourself on my cock. Please, Gregory, just one taste. You taste so good."

You: Lestrade smiled and gathered up more pre-come on his fingers. He wiped them over Mycroft's lips, wetting them. "Lick me off of you," Lestrade ordered, pulling his fingers back to gather more.

Stranger: Mycroft eagerly lapped at the pre-come coating his lips. He hummed happily and smiled up at Greg. "More... Please..." he moaned between laps.

You: Lestrade swiped up even more of the fluid until his fingers were coated the first knuckle. Then, he slid them into Mycroft's mouth slowly, gliding over his tongue. "Suck off what you want," he whispered darkly, pushing himself down hard on Mycroft's erection.

Stranger: Mycroft gasped before he started sucking on Greg's digits, running his tongue around them and getting off all he could of the salty liquid. He hummed as he sucked and shivered as Greg pressed down on him. It all felt amazing.

You: "You want more?" Lestrade asked, pulling his fingers out of Mycroft's mouth. He made a show of studying them then licked off Mycroft's saliva while moving his hips in short, sharp strokes.

Stranger: Mycroft nodded before thinking for a moment. "C-can you put some on your lips then let me kiss and lick it off?" he asked, his voice feeling raw from he doesn't know what.

You: "I think I could do that," Lestrade replied, cupping his erection again. He stroked it a few times, groaning at the sensations flashing through him. As more pre-come gathered at the head, he gathered it up carefully and smeared it over his own lips. It was salty and Lestrade leaned down to kiss Mycroft.

Stranger: Mycroft leaned up to hungrily take Greg's lips with his. He nipped and licked and sucked on the come-smothered lips, humming as he kissed Greg slowly. His hips arched up to meet Greg's on a downstroke and he smiled when he heard Greg grunt.

You: "That enough for you?" Lestrade asked, pumping his hips. He groaned when Mycroft hit his prostate, pleasure flashing white through him. "Or are you going to beg me for more?"

Stranger: "Might need more of you," Mycroft snickered, smiling up at his lover. "But I'm good o-otherwise." He moaned as Greg gripped his hips hard, his nails digging into the skin.

You: "Good, love," Lestrade replied, leaning down to bite at the side of Mycroft's neck. He sucked until there was a red mark then licked over it. "I want you to fuck me now. Make me ride you hard."

Stranger: Mycroft curled his toes and pressed his feet firmly into the bed. He pushed up and into Greg, repeating this a few times. "Like.. This?" he panted, pushing up again.

You: "That's it, Mycroft," Lestrade keened, pumping his hips harder. He squeezed Mycroft's hips to help anchor himself and spread his legs as far apart as they could go. "You close? Want you to come inside me."

Stranger: "I-I'm getting there love," Mycroft grunted, pulling on the handcuffs. "Just... a bit more... please... Greg..."

You: "I love having you underneath me in handcuffs," Lestrade murmured, keeping up his pace. "I enjoy doing whatever I want to you and making you beg me because you can't touch. You must be going crazy with your hands tied. Not being able to do whatever you want to me. What would you do if you could touch me, Mycroft?"

Stranger: "My hands would be all over you," Mycroft muttered, pulling at the handcuffs again. "I'd be rubbing up your back and around your cock. I'd do whatever you want me to."

You: "You want to be doing this?" Lestrade asked, skimming his hand over his chest. He started at his collarbone, tracing the shape of the bones underneath his skin before sliding his fingertips down to a nipple. As he brushed his fingers over it, Lestrade let out a moan and arched his back. But he didn't stay long, just continued the trail down the center of his stomach and to the hair just above the base of his erection.

Stranger: Mycroft watched as Greg took his own cock in hand, his mouth forming a small "oh" as he squeezed. "Yes," Mycroft grunted, watching Greg's other hand as it went to play with his nipples. "I want to. God, Greg. Let me go... Keep going... Do something..."

You: "I'm not letting you go," Lestrade replied, shaking his head. "I want you to watch what you can't touch." He rolled a nipple between his fingers, body shuddering as everything he was doing thundered through him. Lestrade was careful to keep a light touch on his erection, not wanting to come just yet. Though the look of Mycroft's wet lips made him want to fuck his mouth. "Tell me when you're about to orgasm," Lestrade ordered.

Stranger: Mycroft nodded and continued to watch Greg move. He licked his lips as he watched Greg's hand caress his chest, moving across to work at the other nipple - the first standing erect and a bright pink. Mycroft pushed his hips up, trying to get some movement between them going again. "Greg, please, let me go..." Mycroft whispered, pulling at the handcuffs. His need to touch Greg was growing hotter and he couldn't get enough points of contact to feed it. "Please, Greg... I need to touch you. You need to let me go. Please..."

You: "No," Lestrade shook his head, gasping as he pinched hard at his nipple. "The only way you touch me is your cock inside me. And you've slowed down. Should I take this to mean you want to stop?" He arched an eyebrow at Mycroft, pulling his hand away from his nipple. Lestrade lifted his hips up, sliding up off Mycroft until only the head of his erection was still inside him.

Stranger: "No!" Mycroft gasped, bucking his hips up and slamming back into Greg and shoving himself all the way back in. "Don't you... dare stop!"

You: "Then maybe you should move, love," Lestrade gasped, mouth opening on a scream. He ground down hard onto Mycroft's hips, stroking a little faster over his own erection. "Are you close? I want to feel you come inside me."

Stranger: "I'm... getting... there," Mycroft panted through the force of pushing himself up and into Greg. "Pl-please... stroke faster... Do more or... or something..."

You: Lestrade licked over his lips, knowing Mycroft was watching every move he made. He slid his other hand down his chest, hard enough to leave little red trails from his nails. The sharp bite of pain made him groan and Lestrade bit at his bottom lip. He continued down, squeezing hard on the head of his erection while his other hand pumped up and down the shaft. Finally, Lestrade finished the path by cupping his balls and massaging them, putting enough pressure on them to be just this side of pain. "Come for me, Mycroft," he whispered.

Stranger: Mycroft watched every move Greg made with his mouth open, tongue darting out to wet his lips, and his eyes hazy and locked on his hands. He felt his orgasm pooling in his stomach as he pumped harder into Greg, his wrists pulling against the cuffs with the effort of each thrust up. He froze after a particularly deep, hard thrust upwards and screamed out just as his orgasm threatened to come out. "G-God damn!" he screamed, struggling against his restraints. "Greg, on the edge... d-do something!"

You: Quickly gathering up a little more of his pre-come, Lestrade smeared it on his own lips before leaning down to kiss Mycroft. He kept pumping his hips, taking Mycroft in as deep as he could.

Stranger: Mycroft hungrily licked at Greg's lips as they kissed. He let Greg grind down on him before his orgasm burst from him, his whole body tightening and his mouth falling open in a loud scream. "Greg!" he shouted at the top of his lungs as Greg’s muscles tightened around him.

You: "That's it, love," Lestrade murmured, slowing down to ease Mycroft through his orgasm. He continued to ride him until Mycroft stopped twitching inside him and Greg shifted to lie next to Mycroft while they both caught their breath.

Stranger: Mycroft folded into Greg's side at once, panting as he did so. His hands were still cuffed to the headboard and he raised his arms up a bit to give them slack. "Amazing..." he muttered, opening his eyes and looking at Greg. He glanced over at the side table and frowned. "You didn't leave the key to these things in your car... Did you?"

You: Lestrade laughed and pressed a kiss to Mycroft's forehead. "No, I didn't," he said, reaching over and opening a drawer. He pulled out the key, letting it dangle on its keyring from two fingers. "I wouldn't leave you locked up, Mycroft, don't worry about that." Lestrade dropped the key back into the drawer and let his hands wander over Mycroft's chest.

You: "I am not, no," Lestrade agreed quietly, tracing his fingers over Mycroft's muscles. "And wherever my handcuffs go, the keys go. Habit that was drilled into me a long time ago." Lestrade slipped his fingers down Mycroft's stomach and over to his hip, rubbing over the skin. "I want you to spread your legs, love."

Stranger: Mycroft did as he was told at once, smiling as he pulled his lip between his bottom teeth like he knew Greg liked. He shook his hip suggestively, wiping the smile the smile from his face to give Greg the best pouting look he could manage.

You: "You want whatever I have planned, don't you?" Lestrade asked, leaning down to suck Mycroft's bottom lip into his mouth. He let his teeth glide over it as he pulled back and Lestrade let his hand shift to the inside of Mycroft's thigh.

Stranger: "Please," Mycroft nodded, shivering as Greg's teeth ran over his bottom lip. He whimpered quietly and tried to keep his lips against Greg's as long as he could. He pouted in protest when Greg got out of his reach and shook his hips again.

You: "You need to be patient," Lestrade chided gently, grinning as he picked up the tube of lube. He coated his fingers again and settled back between Mycroft's legs. Instead of teasing up his legs, Lestrade went straight to his entrance and circled around it twice before pushing one finger inside.

Stranger: Mycroft's mouth fell open and his eyes rolled back in his head as Greg push his finger into him. "Jesus..." he breathed, his hips arching to meet the finger.

You: "Not quite," Lestrade replied, smirking. He sank his finger in to the last knuckle and rested for a moment, letting Mycroft feel the stretch. "Beg some more," he murmured, leaning down to kiss Mycroft's hip. "I want to hear you pleading for more."

Stranger: "Love, please, I need you deep inside me," Mycroft begged, tightening his muscles around Greg's finger for emphasis. "Please, I want you to fill me and finger me till I beg for you to stop. I don't want mercy. Please, use me..."

You: "I can do that," Lestrade said. He stroked in and out with the first finger a few times until the muscles loosened enough for him to slip another inside. Lestrade did so, driving his fingers in as deep as they would go then drawing them back out nearly completely. Spreading them apart slightly, Lestrade stretched the muscles even further.

Stranger: As Greg pulled his fingers in and out, Mycroft was left writhing on the bed, moaning out Greg's name. He begged and groaned as Greg pushed his fingers into him again, a grin pulling at his lips.

You: After Mycroft was stretched enough, Lestrade pulled his fingers out and crawled up Mycroft's body, using the excess lube to slick his erection. Capturing Mycroft's lips in a messy kiss, Lestrade pushed in until the head of his erection was firmly entrenched inside Mycroft. Then he paused to torment both of them.

Stranger: "Move," Mycroft moaned, trying to push up on Greg's hips. He moaned loudly and tried to push up harder.

You: Lestrade moved with Mycroft, laughing as he kept himself from sinking further inside the other man. "I think I'm going to tease you first, love," Lestrade murmured, licking over one nipple. He circled his tongue around it then started sucking, brushing his teeth over the hardened nub a few times.

Stranger: Mycroft moaned loudly and tried to push his hips up again, arching his back as he did so. "You... Fucking... Tease," he growled, pulling at the handcuffs. "Damn it... Move!" His moan turned into a loud whimper when Greg bit down on the sensitive skin next to his nipple.

You: "Just remember you asked me," Lestrade replied darkly, pumping his hips forward sharply. He buried himself completely in Mycroft before pulling out and pushing back in in short, quick thrusts. Lestrade kept up that rhythm, not giving Mycroft a chance to catch his breath once he'd started.

Stranger: "Greg..." Mycroft moaned, his eyes falling shut and his mouth opening as he silently screamed to the ceiling. As Greg pounded into him, Mycroft couldn't decide if he felt more of the pleasure or the pain. It was all too much. "G-Greg..."

You: "What is it, love?" Lestrade panted, layering kisses and nips over Mycroft's neck and collarbone. He could already tell that he wasn't going to last long, his muscles starting to tremble and heat starting to bloom in his stomach and groin. "Finish your sentence, Mycroft."

Stranger: "Naaah," Mycroft groaned, squeezing his eyes shut. "H-hurts... God... Greg..." Mycroft pulled at the handcuffs, tugging at them hard as he tried to reach out and touch Greg. "Greg!"

You: That stopped Lestrade cold, a worm of guilt flooding his chest. "You want me to unlock the cuffs?" he asked quietly, reaching for the key. "You sound like it hurts terribly."

Stranger: Mycroft shook his head quickly, opening his eyes to look up at Greg. "T-that's not what h-hurts," he muttered, leaning up enough to peck Greg on the corner of his mouth.

You: "What does then?" Lestrade asked, kissing Mycroft back but still worried. "I don't want you to be in a lot of pain right now, love. I want you to enjoy this." He stopped reaching for the key, resting his hand on Mycroft's shoulder.

Stranger: "Just slow down a little," Mycroft panted, locking eyes with Greg. "You're pushing just... too hard too fast. It would be nice... but it's too soon after we finished last time."

You: "Sorry," Lestrade apologized, pressing a soft kiss to Mycroft's lips. He started moving again in longer thrusts, keeping his pace slow. Lestrade watched Mycroft's face carefully and relaxed when he saw the pain leave his face. "Better?"

Stranger: "Much," Mycroft sighed, trying to capture Greg's lips again. He kept the kiss heated and sweet while moving his hips with Greg, slowly and passionately.

You: Lestrade let his fingers roam over Mycroft's chest, tracing the muscles as they moved against each other. Rolling his tongue against Mycroft's, Lestrade moaned a bit into their kiss. There was a different feel now, something more intimate between them. And this only served to send Lestrade higher and closer to his orgasm.

Stranger: Mycroft moved his hips slowly but still fiercely, trying to keep Greg going while still taking it slow. He nibbled on Greg's lower lip, sucking it between his teeth.

You: Lestrade groaned as Mycroft sucked on his lip, hips moving a little faster automatically. He gripped one of Mycroft's thighs and pulled his leg up a little, far enough that he could reach even deeper inside him. "Not... not gonna last," Lestrade panted when Mycroft let his lip slide out from between his teeth. "So close, love."

Stranger: "A-already?" Mycroft breathed back, his stomach tightening as warmth filled his gut but he knew he could last a bit longer. He also knew that if Greg did come in him, he would lose it right then and there by the feeling of being filled by Greg's seed.

You: "I've held back," Lestrade replied, leaning down to suck on the point of Mycroft's collarbone. He moved slightly faster and deeper, feeling the familiar trembling and heat gathering. In a few more thrusts, he was orgasmed, muscles locking up to freeze him in place. Lestrade's mouth was open on a wordless groan, breath ghosting over Mycroft's skin.

Stranger: Mycroft took advantage of the open mouth, taking it with his lips and kissing Greg deeply, moaning and groaning as Greg filled him. Soon after, he felt the familiar tightening of the muscles.

You: Lestrade kissed back absently until he had finished riding out his orgasm. He didn't move but started kissing Mycroft more determinedly as he felt the other man tremble underneath him. "You going to come again, love?" he whispered, gliding one hand down to Mycroft's erection.

Stranger: "Close," Mycroft muttered into Greg's lips. He shivered as Greg's hand snaked down his body, brushing over one of his nipples on the way down. "Are you going... Going to help?" He chuckled, smiling deviously.

You: "I think I just might," Lestrade replied, laughing. He wrapped his fingers around Mycroft's erection, smiling when the other man arched into him. In smooth, even strokes, Lestrade pumped from the base to the tip and back down. "You like being tied up then?"

Stranger: "Y-yes. It's a strange... Strange feeling," Mycroft panted, arching into Greg's touch. "It's... It's new."

You: Leaning down, Lestrade stopped with his lips just above Mycroft's. "Maybe next time, you can tie me up," he murmured, lips touching Mycroft's with each word. He squeezed harder with his fingers, stroking faster up and down Mycroft's erection. "I want you to come for me again," Lestrade continued. "Scream for me, Mycroft."

Stranger: I'd... I'd like that..." Mycroft breathed, wanting so much to reach up and capture Greg's lips. The fingers around his erection kept him from moving as his muscles tightened and his orgasm built. "C-close..."

With a low chuckle, Lestrade leaned down and thrust his tongue into Mycroft's mouth. He moved his tongue in the same rhythm as his hand, exploring Mycroft's mouth. Lestrade eagerly swallowed the moans and gasps the other man was letting out, wanting more.

Stranger: Mycroft moaned loudly and screamed into Greg's mouth as his orgasm burst from him. His muscles tightened and he felt himself clamp down around Greg's erection, which was almost painfully deep inside him.

You: Lestrade moaned in turn as Mycroft tightened around him. He had forgotten that he hadn't slipped out yet and he was still exquisitely sensitive. Slowing down his strokes, Lestrade helped Mycroft ride out his orgasm, the kisses turning gentler as both men came down.

Stranger: Mycroft broke the kiss and buried his head in Greg's shoulder when it all became too much. He panted into the crook of his neck and felt his body go limp, closing his eyes once again and trying to relax his muscles enough for Greg to slip out.

With a final kiss to Mycroft's cheek, Lestrade sat up carefully. He reached for the key to undo the cuffs, releasing Mycroft's hands. There were red bands around his wrists from where the other man had pulled against the metal. Lestrade kissed them gently before placing Mycroft's hands next to him on the bed. "Stay here, love," Lestrade said, smiling down at Mycroft. "I'll go get a cloth to clean us up."

Stranger: Mycroft nodded and smiled up at Greg weakly. "Love you," he whispered, before the other man got up. As Greg left to go get the clothes, Mycroft examined his wrists. He sighed at the red bands around them and hoped that his jacket would cover them up tomorrow at work. It would be hard to explain why they were there if they weren't covered, and he didn't want to deal with that.

You: Once in the bathroom, Lestrade cleaned himself up quickly with a damp cloth. He soaked it again and wrung it out, making sure the cloth wasn't too hot from the water before heading back to Mycroft. Smiling at the boneless man, Lestrade carefully cleaned up his skin, sweeping his fingers over each clean place.

Stranger: Mycroft stretched his arms, working out the knots after Greg cleaned him up. "Thank you, love," he muttered, smiling at the man. He forced himself into a sitting position and yawned. "What do you want to do now? Watch a movie or something?"

You: "You're welcome, Mycroft," Lestrade said, running his fingers down Mycroft's arm. "A movie sounds great. You want to head out to the living room or stay here?"

Stranger: "It's up to you," Mycroft smiled, pecking Greg on his cheek. "Which do you want to do?"

You: "How about I go pick a movie and we curl up here?" Lestrade suggested, wrapping his arms awkwardly around Mycroft and giving him a hug. "That way, we can fall asleep if we get too tired."

Stranger: "Sounds perfect," Mycroft said, hugging Greg back and chuckling at the awkward angle. "I'm going to get under the covers then. But do you want something to drink? I can make tea."

You: "No, I'll grab some water from the kitchen," Lestrade replied, giving Mycroft one last kiss. "I'm guessing you're just as thirsty as I am. Get under the blankets, love. I'll be right back." Lestrade walked out of the room after throwing his shirt back on and headed to the kitchen. He got two water bottles since he doubted either of them wanted to deal with glasses, and went to their movie collection. After a few minutes' debate, Lestrade picked an old comedy Blazing Saddles.

Stranger: Mycroft fixed the messed up covers of the bed and climbed in, snuggling deep into the blankets and placing the handcuffs that still hung around the headboard on the table so Greg wouldn’t lose them. He pulled the covers up to his naked chest and closed his eyes for a few moments, letting the last of the rush from their time together go, getting his muscles to relax fully. He opened his eyes again when he heard footsteps coming back up the stairs and smiled when Greg walked in.

You: “Feel like a comedy?” Lestrade asked, holding up the DVD case. He put the two bottles of water on the nightstand next to Mycroft, nodding in thanks when he saw the handcuffs resting there. “Blazing Saddles. Dunno about you, but I love Mel Brooks.”

Stranger: “Anything you want, love,” Mycroft smiled, watching as his lover went to work on the DVD player. “I’ve never heard of the movie, or actress.”

You: “Mel Brooks isn’t an actress,” Lestrade laughed, turning on the TV and grabbing the remote. “Though he does appear in nearly all of his movies. He’s more of a producer. A lot of comedies, some in old horror movie style.”

Stranger: “He? Oh,” Mycroft blushed deeply as Greg laughed. “My bad then. Sounds good, at least.”

You: “No problem, love. This is one of my favorites from his works,” Lestrade finished with the DVD player and crawled into bed with Mycroft, making sure he still had the remote. “I think I even have the box set that was released a few years ago if you like this movie.”

Stranger: “I’ll remember that,” Mycroft said, cuddling closer. He wrapped one arm around Greg’s waist and pulled him closer. “You comfortable?”

You: “I’m fine,” Lestrade nodded, nuzzling into the crook of Mycroft’s neck. He didn’t really need to see the movie, now that he’d started it. By this point, Lestrade had seen it often enough that he almost had the thing memorized.

\-------------------------------------------------------------

Stranger: Five days after the rescue boat picked them up and two days after John and Sherlock had made it back to 221B Baker Street, Sherlock was moving back into their flat after the long almost three years of being away. It felt amazing to be back for good and he couldn’t help but walk around the flat, relearning all the smells and rooms. “It feels unreal to be back,” Sherlock muttered, more to himself than to John, who stood on the other side of the kitchen.

You: John busied his hands making tea while watching Sherlock pace the flat. It felt just as unreal to him to have the detective back here. “Just give it time,” John advised, pouring two cups of tea. “Pretty soon, it’ll feel like nothing changed.”

Stranger: “But so much has changed,” Sherlock said, walking up to the where John was and leaning on the counter next to him. “Don’t you agree?” He took the cup John handed to him and sipped it slowly, letting the hot liquid run over his tongue.

You: John swallowed hard, burning his tongue on the tea he’d just drank. “Yes, a lot has changed,” John replied, voice husky. He was still amazed at how Sherlock could do that, just a few words and he brought to the fore every memory John had of them together.

Stranger: “Careful, it’s hot,” Sherlock chuckled, watching as John gasped slightly as the tea burned his tongue. “I think they all changed for the better. It feels more... well... I don’t know what you’d call it. It feels different here now.”

You: “I’m glad you think it’s better,” John said honestly, putting down his teacup. He pulled Sherlock into his arms, smiling up at the detective. “You tended to be distant before you left and I would never have pegged you as the type to be in a relationship.”

Stranger: “I didn’t know how to act, honestly,” Sherlock muttered, wrapping his arms around John. “I didn’t know what to do in order to get you to see. I still don’t know what I’m doing, but everything just comes... naturally with you.”

You: “Well, you’re doing fairly well,” John replied, leaning his head up to give Sherlock a kiss. “And you need to talk to me if you’re ever confused or you don’t know what to do. Don’t keep quiet.”

Stranger: “I’ll try to remember that,” Sherlock said before catching John’s lips again, keeping the kiss light and playful. “But I want to figure stuff out. Test things; like an experiment.”

You: “Of course you would,” John laughed, breaking their kiss and stepping back to pick up his tea. He took a sip of it carefully, the liquid still hot. “Though I have to admit it’s weird not waiting for a text from Greg. You must be going a little stir-crazy without a case.”

Stranger: “He’ll text me after we meet with Mycroft, I’m sure,” Sherlock shrugged, going back to leaning against the counter. “Honestly, after these past three years, I don’t mind relaxing a bit.”

You: “Can you tell me anything about it?” John asked carefully. He’d seen the shadows in Sherlock’s eyes when they’d mentioned that time apart before but he really wanted to know. John hated to see Sherlock disappear into his head.

Stranger: “It’ll take a while,” Sherlock muttered slowly, avoiding looking at John as he said it. “A long while. There’s so much to explain and tell and details to go over...”

You: John sat down at the kitchen table, resting his teacup on the table. He wanted to give Sherlock his space since he looked like he needed it. “Can you start at the beginning? Maybe explain how you survived the fall?”

Stranger: Sherlock nodded and sat down. He played with the rim of his cup for a few minutes before starting. He told John the whole story, beginning to end, adding in details and settings as he saw fit. He got to the part where he and Mycroft had to walk along the ledge six floors up and Mycroft almost fell off before John interrupted him.

You: “What possessed you to walk along that ledge?” John asked quietly, fear in his voice. “Weren’t there other ways you could have dealt with that? You both could have died.”

 

Stranger: Sherlock sighed, looking at the mostly finished tea in his hand. “We had to. We couldn’t be found out. If we were spotted, we could have been killed and-”

You: “It was reckless,” John cut in, shaking his head. “And that’s not like you. I’ve seen you take chances but you always were in control.”

Stranger: “I was in control!” Sherlock snapped. “It was Mycroft that wasn’t in control. I had everything perfectly fine in that situation.”

You: “And if you hadn’t been able to pull Mycroft back up?” John asked, trying but failing to keep the anger out of his voice. “What if he had pulled you both down? Was it really worth that? You couldn’t have found another way?”

Stranger: Sherlock growled and slammed his hands on the table, standing up. “I’m done with this,” he growled, moving to leave the room. “I did what I needed to to save you. There was no other way and I don’t need you getting angry with me for it.”

You: “Sherlock, wait,” John said, holding out a hand towards the detective. “Look, I may have overreacted a bit. But it’s hard to hear that I could have lost you when you just came back to me a little bit more than a week ago. Please, sit down? I want to hear the rest.”

Stranger: Sherlock paused and thought for a moment. Without a word, Sherlock went back over to the table and sat down heavily. “Fine,” he muttered, pulling his cup back towards him to cradle in his hands.

You: “Thank you,” John told him, fiddling with his teacup. “What happened next?” He waited while Sherlock seemed to gather his words and wondered what the detective was thinking about.

Stranger: Sherlock thought for a few moments before continuing on. He was a little more careful on what he actually told John, leaving out the bits and pieces he may overreact to. He talked slowly, trying to word everything perfectly so John wouldn’t worry too much.

You: John listened closely and heard the little pauses as if Sherlock was rethinking something. He didn’t want to interrupt again, just listened and mentally marked the places he wanted to ask about. “I’m glad you made it through all that,” John finally said when Sherlock was finished. “But it sounded like you were holding back a few things. Can you elaborate where you paused?”

Stranger: “They weren’t important,” Sherlock lied smoothly, waving it off. “Don’t worry about it.” Sherlock went back to playing with the rim of his now empty cup, twirling the cup around on the table with his finger every once in awhile.

You: “Really?” John asked dryly, arching one eyebrow at Sherlock. “Then why don’t you want to tell me? Afraid I’m going to get angry again?”

Stranger: “A bit,” Sherlock admitted, nodding. “I don’t want you to worry.”

You: “It seems a little silly to worry about it now,” John replied with a self-deprecating smile. “I probably shouldn’t have gotten angry earlier, to be honest. Will you tell me the rest?”

Stranger: Sherlock thought for a moment before going back and filling John in on the bits he left out. “Happy now?” he asked when he was finished, leaning back in his chair.

You: John nodded, at a loss for words for a few moments. He couldn’t believe how close Sherlock had come to dying a few times. Without a word, he got up and wrapped his arms around Sherlock’s shoulders. “Thank you for telling me,” John murmured. “I’m glad you had people to help you get through all that. I wish I had been there.”

 

Stranger: “I wish you were too, but sometimes, I’m glad you weren’t,” Sherlock mutter, placing his hand on top of John’s and closing his eyes. “I wouldn’t want anything to happen to you.”

You: Before John could say anything in reply, Sherlock’s phone beeped insistently. John rolled his eyes, wondering who could possibly have the colossally bad timing to interrupt them now. “You going to get that?” he asked, pressing a kiss to Sherlock’s temple.

Stranger: “If I don’t, will you make me?” Sherlock asked, leaning into the kiss as his phone beeped again. He cursed whoever it was and closed his eyes, focusing on John’s lips.

You: “No,” John chuckled, moving the kiss down to Sherlock’s cheek. “I think I like being here. The phone can wait.”

Stranger: “Good,” Sherlock smiled, tilting his head back to let John work at the skin. “I like it better here anyhow.”

You: John laughed again, trailing down Sherlock’s jaw to nip at the skin underneath it. His hands roamed down from Sherlock’s shoulders to his sides, rubbing circles into the skin underneath his clothes.

 

Stranger: Sherlock sighed and dropped his head back on John’s shoulder. He raised his hands up so John could take his shirt off when the doctor started to pull on it. “What are you going to do to me?” he asked, smiling devilishly.

You: “I didn’t have a particular plan,” John admitted, ignoring the beeping of the phone again. He finished taking the shirt over Sherlock’s head then feathered his fingers over his shoulders. But before he could do much more, his own phone started beeping along with Sherlock’s. “I bet it’s Mycroft,” John sighed.

Stranger: Sherlock groaned as John pulled away. “I will kill him if it is,” he growled, standing and looking for his phone.

You: John laughed and pulled his phone out of his pocket. He wasn’t quite right, as it was Greg calling him. John answered the phone while Sherlock was still looking for his. “What’s up, Greg?” John asked, struggling to keep impatience out of his voice.

Stranger: “Where are you guys?” Greg asked, his tone a little impatient as he looked over at Mycroft typing on his phone trying to get a hold of Sherlock.

You: “We’re at the flat,” John replied, wondering why Greg wanted to know so much. “Is something wrong?”

 

Stranger: “Mycroft has been trying to get a hold of Sherlock for a while now,” Greg said, watching as Mycroft just gave up and walked over to Greg to listen in to their conversation.

You: “We’ve been ignoring Sherlock’s phone,” John replied, waving Sherlock over when the other man’s phone stopped beeping. “We were a bit busy. What does Mycroft want?”

 

Stranger: “He needs to talk to the two of you,” Greg sighed, rolling his eyes as he understood what was really going on over in 221B. “Can you hand the phone to Sherlock?”

You: “Sure,” John said before handing the phone to Sherlock. He laughed as Sherlock rolled his eyes before accepting it. “What is it?” he barked into the phone.

Stranger: Greg handed Mycroft the phone, laughing at the eruption on the other end. “Good luck,” he mouthed before backing away. “Sherlock?” Mycroft asked calmly, shaking his head. “Can you guys come over so we can all talk?”

You: “Why?” Sherlock asked bluntly, starting to pace the room. John watched as he did so, happy to see a return of the manic energy that was so characteristic of the old Sherlock when he was on a case.

Stranger: “We need to talk about everything with John before we can just let you go back. It’s not one hundred percent safe yet, Sherlock. John shouldn’t know about you,” Mycroft said, falling into a chair at the table.

You: “Little late for that,” Sherlock muttered quietly, though a thread of unease rolled through him. He was fairly certain he’d taken care of all of the IOU, but what if he had missed something? What if there was an element of it that only Moriarty had known about? “And it has to be now?” Sherlock asked, louder.

Stranger: “Preferably, yes,” Mycroft said, losing patience quickly. “Now are you coming or not?”

You: Sherlock took the phone away from his ear and whispered to John “Mycroft wants to see us. Are you up for a trip?”

Stranger: “I guess,” John shrugged, picking up Sherlock’s shirt from where it was on the floor and holding it. “If we have to, I mean.”

You: “We’ll be there,” Sherlock grumbled into the phone before pressing the end button. He handed it back to John while taking his shirt back. “Mycroft thinks that there may be some danger still.”

Stranger: “Still?” John asked, pocketing the phone. “But you said you get everyone from the IOU, who else could be out there? Moriarty?” John chuckled dryly at the thought. “He couldn’t have faked his death as well, could he have?”

You: “I doubt he could have,” Sherlock said thoughtfully, shrugging into his shirt. “However, there may be parts of IOU that Moriarty didn’t tell anyone else about. There was also a woman in Mycroft’s employ who turned and tried to kill me.”

Stranger: “I don’t know then,” John muttered, running a hand through his hair. “But I do know that, no matter what, I’m staying by your side this time. You’re not leaving me again.”

You: “I’d be lost without my blogger,” Sherlock whispered, smiling as he walked to John and pulled him into a hug. Life felt right again, as if a gear that had been slipping finally caught and started turning again.

Stranger: John smiled and hugged Sherlock back, happy that he could finally just hold this man like he had wanted to for so long. Everything just felt right when he could have Sherlock this close to him. "You better believe you would be," John joked, chuckling and kissing Sherlock's neck.

You: "We shouldn't start that again if we want to see Mycroft in anything resembling a reasonable time," Sherlock sighed resignedly, stepping away from John but letting his hand slide down to take John's. "Believe me, I could spend hours learning you and experimenting with different stimuli."

Stranger: John regretfully nodded and laced his fingers with Sherlock's. "After, then," he muttered, leaning up to peck Sherlock on the lips. "Then you can experiment all you want on me."

You: Sherlock nodded and led the way outside. He flagged down a cab, the black car acting like a well-behaved dog and coming to heel at his feet. Sherlock let John get in first, settling himself in the seat next to him. After giving the driver the address of Mycroft's flat, Sherlock sat back and sighed again. "I'm tired of all this," he admitted quietly, looking out the window and not at John. "I thought it was finished."

Stranger: John took Sherlock's hand in his and ran his thumb over the back of his hand gently. "I'm sure it'll be over soon," John whispered, watching as Sherlock continued to watch out the window and just shake his head. "Sherlock, it'll be over soon. You have to believe that. Everything will work out for the best in the end."

You: "Have you seen any of the papers since we've gotten back?" Sherlock asked, changing the subject slightly. "Every headline screams "Sherlock: Fact or Fake?". Mycroft seems to have gotten a decent start on fixing my reputation but there's money to be made in controversy. And more people seem to be falling into the "fake" category."

Stranger: "So what?" John shrugged, watching Sherlock carefully. "I mean, once you come back, I'm sure they'll still trust you to solve cases. No one can pull off what you did, even with planning, if they were a fake."

You: "Perhaps," Sherlock admitted, shaking his head. "But you never stopped believing in me, John. You don't see me as the rest of the world does and you never have. Half of my cases came from the public rather than Lestrade. What will I do if I don't have cases to interest me?"

Stranger: "Sherlock, we'll figure out something if it really does come down to that. But everyone you've helped over the years, they all believe in you," John said, giving Sherlock's hand a squeeze until the other man looked at him. "And I'm sure others do too. You just have to give it time. But if people end up not believing in you, we'll figure something out."

You: Sherlock was silent for several minutes, turning John's words over and over in his mind. He'd struggled to get to where he was before John came into his life and had succeeded. But he was so very tired and just wanted everything to go back to the way it was. "There's still time, I suppose," he finally said, turning to give John a small smile. "Thank you."

Stranger: John caught Sherlock's lips in a quick, light kiss. "I'll always believe in you," he muttered. "And I believe you'll jump right back to where you were before in no time at all."

You: "Well, if Mycroft is as good as he always believed, I should," Sherlock replied with a laugh. He kissed John again, squeezing his hand. A cleared throat interrupted him, the cabby looking back with a sheepish expression. "We're here, gents," the cabby said.

Stranger: John blushed lightly and climbed out of the cab as Sherlock paid bridge following. They made their way quietly up the sidewalk and to Mycroft's door, knocking twice.

You: Lestrade opened the door and smiled warmly at Sherlock and John. "Mycroft's in the kitchen," he explained, backing up so the two men could come in the door. "He's got some paperwork he wants to go over with both of you."

Stranger: "Will you be joining us?" John asked as Sherlock made his way to the kitchen. He heard mumbling voices and figured Sherlock found Mycroft.

You: "If I'm needed," Lestrade shrugged, heading into the living room. He heard John following him and offered him a cup of tea from the pot that was sitting on the coffee table. "So how have you been, John?"

Stranger: "Wonderful," John smiled, accepting the tea with a nod. "Ever since Sherlock came back things have been.... Easier."

You: "That's good, I'm happy for you both," Lestade said, pouring tea for himself. "Mycroft flipped when he realized where you went, you know. You weren't supposed to know for another couple months."

Stranger: "I still don't think he's very happy," John muttered, stirring his tea absentmindedly. "I know he wasn't supposed to tell me, but honestly. The IOU is gone. What sort of danger could I really be in?"

You: "I don't know," Lestrade replied thoughtfully, looking into the kitchen as the murmur of voices grew louder for a moment. "Sometimes I think Mycroft feels the need to control everything, including Sherlock. But there was that agent who tried to kill him. Perhaps the danger isn't all from IOU."

Stranger: "Then where or who else?" John asked, bothering his bottom lip as he thought. "Doesn't matter though. I'm helping Sherlock finish this. It's how it should be, even if Mycroft doesn't think so. I don't give a damn what Mycroft thinks or wants, I need to help Sherlock and that's that."

You: Lestrade smiled at John, pleased to see the return of the brave and stubborn soldier he once was. "That's good," he nodded. "Sherlock may need your help. But, to be honest, I think Mycroft has agents heading to take care of the rogue one. This may be his version of hmm... brotherly bonding, I suppose."

Stranger: "Mycroft and Sherlock bonding?" John huffed, shaking his head and taking a sip of his tea. "I highly doubt it."

You: "It happened when they went to Vancouver," Lestrade replied, shrugging. "They seemed to have made up a bit. At least, there was a lot less sarcasm on both sides."

Stranger: "Vancouver? You mean when Mycroft almost-" he made a motion with his hand to signal the end of his sentence. "They bonded over that?"

You: "From what I understand, nearly dying from trying to walk on that ledge helped," Lestrade replied. He took a large sip of his tea now that it had cooled down a bit. "But, yeah, that was part of it. Neither of the Holmes are normal, really."

Stranger: John hummed and shrugged, sipping from his tea as he did so. "No, they definitely are not normal," he muttered, smiling slightly as he heard Sherlock's voice from the kitchen. He couldn't make out what they were saying, but he knew that deep baritone voice too well.

You: "I know you think it worked out for the best, Sherlock, but think if there was some branch of IOU remaining," Mycroft sighed, tapping a finger impatiently on the papers on his table. They were reports from Anthea and a few other trusted agents, detailing that IOU was, in fact, dead. "I know how you feel about John. Imagine if he had been killed because you couldn't stay away from him as Dean."

Stranger: Sherlock sighed loudly and sat down at the table, running a hand through his short hair. Almost three years and he still couldn't get used to it. "I know, Mycroft," he grumbled, closing his eyes. "I took a chance and I'm lucky it worked out the way it did. But he's fine and alive. What was I supposed to do when he came and found me in Paris? Send him away? No, I couldn't. He came all the way out there to find Dean and he believed Dean wanted him there. He didn't know who I was."

You: Mycroft shook his head and let the subject drop; everything had worked out, after all, and there was nothing he could do about it now. "There are a few things I would like to discuss with you now, since you're back and can take a hand in restoring your reputation. Lestrade helped ease the way for you to work with New Scotland Yard again. It's the public that has me worried right now."

Stranger: "And what would you need me to do?" Sherlock asked slowly, fixing his hair quickly and lifting his head to look at Mycroft, watching him play with the corner of one of the papers in front of him. "How can I help bring myself back to life? I mean, I can't just appear, can I?"

You: "You can put me in touch with the clients you helped through your website and John's blog. Their voices will put more weight on the words I give to the media," Mycroft explained. He rose and started tea going in another kettle, leaving the one in the living room for Greg and John.

Stranger: "I'll work with John and get you a list of phone numbers and emails by next week, if that works," Sherlock said, watching Mycroft move about the kitchen. "Is there anything else I - or we - can do?"

You: "I don't want you using your name again just yet," Mycroft replied, pouring the water into a teapot once the kettle boiled. "Technically, Sherlock Holmes is still dead. I don't want there to be any confusion when you do come back. Oh, and once Anthea has provided me with the paperwork, I will need you to sign things."

Stranger: "So should I keep using Dean?" Sherlock asked, nodding as Mycroft handed him a cup of tea. "If so, we should talk to John about using that name in public and stuff. As for signing, I can do all that."

You: "Yes, you should continue to use Dean," Mycroft replied, stirring sugar into his own tea. "I have the name set up as an alias for one of my agents so you shouldn't have any problems with it. Now, we need to talk about John. He is obviously overjoyed to have you back but I need him to act like you're still dead."

Stranger: "We should probably let him come in and listen, than," Sherlock said, sitting back and taking the sugar Mycroft passed to him.

You: Mycroft nodded and walked out to the living room. Resting a hand on Greg's shoulder, he told John "We need to speak with you. There are some things you will be needing to do to help with Sherlock's return." Mycroft waited until John had nodded and left before leaning down and capturing Greg's lips in a quick kiss.

Stranger: Lestrade let Mycroft pull away and smiled up at him. "Would it be okay if I came and listened in? Or do you all need to talk alone?" Lestrade asked, raising his cup up to sip from it again.

You: "We're not discussing anything you need to worry about in regards to your job, so feel free," Mycroft replied, smiling. "Some of this may pertain to you as well. Trying to restore Sherlock's reputation has not been easy and I could use your insight."

Stranger: "Then I'll come," Lestrade smiled, taking Mycroft's hand in his free one and leading him to the kitchen. He sat down beside his lover, taking his hand under the table, seeing John and Sherlock were doing the same. He couldn't help the same ping of weirdness that went through him. Something in him said it was weird seeing one of his ex's holding hands with one of his friends. But another part, a bigger part, told him it didn't matter. That he had who he loved and John had who he loved. It all worked out and for that, Lestrade was thankful.

You: "John, I know you love having Sherlock back," Mycroft began, voice hesitant as he tried to word his next sentence delicately. "But you're going to have to pretend that he's still dead. IOU is gone but we don't want any bumps on the road to his return."

Stranger: John looked at Sherlock for a long moment. Could he pretend that Sherlock was still dead? "How do I have to do this?" he asked slowly. "What do I have to do?"

You: "You have to act as if Sherlock is really Dean," Mycroft explained, forgoing the explanation about the alias he'd given Sherlock. "I'd prefer if Sherlock wasn't living in 221B but, understanding the reality of how both of you feel, I doubt that's going to happen."

Stranger: "It's not," John said, shaking his head. "He's not leaving again. I need to be able to help with this and I'll be able to do so if he's with me at the flat. I'll pretend he's dead, and that his name's Dean, but I won't lose him again."

You: "I refuse to leave again," Sherlock added, squeezing John's hand under the table. He smiled warmly at John before turning back to Mycroft. "The only reason I left before was to keep John, Lestrade, and Mrs. Hudson safe. Now that they are, I'm not going anywhere."

Stranger: "Now that we all agree on that matter," John cut in before Mycroft had the chance to say what undoubtedly was his argument. "What can I do to help? I know there must be a lot to do."

You: "I asked Sherlock to do this, but you may have better information," Mycroft said, lips thinning as John overrode any arguments he might have made. "I need you to start contacting all the clients you and Sherlock helped through his website and your blog. They will be one of our best assets with regards to Sherlock's genius and character."

Stranger: "I can do that," John nodded, giving Sherlock's hand a slight squeeze under the table. "I'll get started on that tomorrow, if that's good for you?"

You: "Good," Mycroft nodded, satisfied. He used his free hand to shuffle through some of the paperwork, impressed anew at the thorough job Anthea had done. "Most of the rest of this needs to wait. It has to do with bringing you back from the dead, Sherlock, and we can't do anything with that paperwork until your reputation has been restored. Though, I would like for you to think about who you would like to hmmm... cover your return, so to speak. Which journalist you would prefer, if any."

Stranger: "I can't think of any off the top of my head," Sherlock said, seeing John shake his head out of the corner of his eye. "Is there someone you'd prefer, Mycroft? I'm sure you, of all people, have connections there."

You: "I do have a journalist I've been using to try and turn public opinion in your favor again," Mycroft mused, tapping the table as he thought. "He's fair and, even better, still owes me a favor. He would be a good choice."

Stranger: "We'll use him then," Sherlock nodded as John did the same. "If he owes you a favor and you trust him, he's our best choice."

You: "How did you work things out at New Scotland Yard?" John asked curiously, looking between Lestrade and Mycroft. "I can't imagine anyone there is in a hurry to admit they were wrong about Sherlock. From what I saw, Greg here was the only one who believed he was innocent at all."

Stranger: Lestrade shrugged one shoulder and sighed. "Honestly, John, I don't think I have convinced them," he muttered, shaking his head. "I don't really know for sure, but I'm slowly working on it. They believe in him, I can see it. It's just a matter of making them admit it."

You: "And I went straight to the top," Mycroft supplied, looking proud of himself. "If you convince the leader, the rest will follow. Greg and I spoke with the superintendent and went through every single case Sherlock ever helped on. He is convinced Sherlock was not the mastermind of it all."

Stranger: "I'm impressed," Sherlock said, nodding slowly and squeezing John's hand. "Thanks again for helping. I couldn't come back without you guys."

You: "Of course, little brother," Mycroft replied, nodding. Then he smiled, a predatory gleam coming into his eyes. "I hope, in the spirit of cooperation, you will not balk as much when it comes to cases I would like you to take."

Stranger: "I still will," Sherlock said, returning the smile. "I'll ease up a bit though."

You: John laughed, knowing that part of the fun for Sherlock was in annoying Mycroft. "So, is there anything else we need to discuss?" John asked, turning to Mycroft. "It's about time for lunch and I don't know about the rest of you, but I'm starved."

Stranger: "Would it be too much risk for all of us to go out and get something to eat?" Lestrade asked, smiling at Mycroft with a pleading smile. "If it is, I can run out and get something. We've never all sat down to eat together and I think we should get started on that; seeing John and I are digging our graves being with the two of you." Lestrade pecked Mycroft on the cheek to ease the hurt in the words as John chuckled.

You: "There will be no graves, love," Mycroft murmured for Greg's ears alone before continuing, "I don't see that going out to eat will be a problem. Though, perhaps, it might be best to go somewhere quiet as I'm not in the habit of... shall we say frequenting establishments below my expectations. And if we go somewhere like that, Sherlock will be remarked upon and speculated about. Possibly even recognized."

Stranger: "Where would you suggest?" John asked, wrapping his arm around Sherlock and pulling him closer - a habit he got from all the dates he had with out girls. When you're talking to someone else, still show who you're with affection. He knew he was only sitting with Mycroft, Greg, and Sherlock; but John felt he still needed to show Sherlock affection as he spoke to Mycroft.

You: Sherlock leaned into John as Mycroft and Lestrade pulled thoughtful faces. He didn't really know what restaurants and such were still here after all this time. New ones may even have opened. Plus, he was rather enjoying the slightly possessive streak John was showing. "I know a place," Lestrade finally said, nodding to himself. "It's kind of a greasy spoon type diner and is really only frequented by the boys at the Yard."

Stranger: "That sounds good," John said, nodding as a small smile over took his lips as Sherlock leaned into him. He turned his head and pecked Sherlock on the cheek before turning back to Mycroft and Greg. "Is it okay with you, Mycroft?"

You: "Exactly how greasy, love?" Mycroft asked slowly, a look of distaste crossing his face. Lestrade laughed and squeezed Mycroft's hand again. "It's just a saying, Mycroft. It doesn't mean the place is greasy it just means it's not really all that fancy and they serve typical diner food like hamburgers and sandwiches and things."

Stranger: Mycroft sighed and looked at Greg for a long moment. "Just this once," he said, holding up a finger between them to emphasize his point. "Only because I agree with John that we should get used to all eating together and because Sherlock still isn't 'back' yet."

You: Lestrade watched as John and Sherlock got up from the table to wander into the living room. Bless John for always knowing when to make a strategic exit. Though, maybe that was something he'd picked up in the army. Dismissing it from his mind, Lestrade stood up and pulled Mycroft with him until he had the other man in his arms. "I love you, you know," Lestrade murmured, laughing as he pressed kisses to Mycroft's temple. "It's time for you to live a little. Explore new things, perhaps a little below what you're used to."

Stranger: "Why would I do that?" Mycroft asked, wrapping his arms around Greg. "I mean, I set standards for myself. Why would I purposely drop below them?"

You: "It would give you a chance to see where I've been, where I'm coming from," Lestrade replied, a serious note creeping into his voice. "I'm just a working man, after all." He pressed another kiss to Mycroft's temple before resting his head on Mycroft's, heart suddenly beating quickly. This had become far more important than he'd meant originally but there was no way Lestrade was taking it back. After all, they did come from different worlds.

Stranger: Mycroft, of course, felt the jump in heartbeat speed as they stood there quietly. This was obviously important to Greg, seeing the small nervous twitches in the other man as they hugged. "Greg," he whispered, kissing his cheek. "If it's really that important to you, I will do whatever you want to do."

You: "It's more that I want you to know me, not just what you've seen here in an expensive flat and things," Lestrade replied awkwardly, trying to figure out how to phrase what he was thinking. "I'm not this man, not really. I'm more at home in the diner I was mentioning than any plush flat or restaurant."

Stranger: "If you want me to, I will," Mycroft said, pulling back and kissing Greg lightly on the lips. "Whatever makes you happiest. I know you didn't come from all this money. You don't mind living in a flat like this... Do you?" Mycroft pulled back to look at Greg. If the other man did mind, all he was doing was putting up with it for him. Mycroft felt a ping of guilt build in his chest; if Greg was just putting up with being surrounded by all this money, it's his fault Greg's not happy...

You: "No, I don't mind," Lestrade smiled, shaking his head. "I actually rather enjoy it. It's nice. I just want to make sure you know that, while I've made a place here, I wasn't in a place like this to begin with." He felt his heartbeat slow down as the words were out, his point made. With a chuckle, Lestrade cupped Mycroft's chin and tilted his head to meet his eyes. "I think I've dragged this out enough," he murmured. "Ready to go eat?"

Stranger: Mycroft smiled as Greg spoke, the guilt fading. "Yeah, I'm ready," he muttered, taking Greg's hand in his own and following the man out to meet John and Sherlock, who were waiting by the front door. "You guys ready?"

You: "About time," Sherlock grumbled, glaring at Mycroft and Lestrade. "What were you two discussing? War and Peace?" John chuckled before shaking his head at Sherlock and pulling the detective outside. "Shall we take a cab?" John asked.

Stranger: "My driver is just downstairs," Mycroft said, ignoring his brother in favor of keeping today argument free. "We can take my car, if you wish."

You: "All right," John said quickly, squeezing Sherlock's hand to forestall whatever was going to come out of the detective's open mouth. Sherlock glared at John without any real heat and closed his mouth. Mycroft led the way down to his car, where his driver indeed was waiting. "Where to, sir?" the driver asked in a disinterested tone.

Stranger: Mycroft motioned at Greg who told the driver the address. They all piled into the back of the car and fell silent as the driver turned into the traffic.

You: There was a slightly uncomfortable silence in the car as the four men looked at each other and looked away. No one really seemed to know what to talk about. "Oh sod this," John finally said, breaking the silence with an exasperated sigh. "Greg, what's new at the Yard?"

Stranger: "Uh, not much, really," Lestrade said, shrugging one shoulder. "All is basically the same really. How's that book publishing going? You know, the one you went to France to meet?" He gave him a knowing smile as John blushed a light shade of pink.

You: "I didn't really need to travel," John said, squeezing Sherlock's hand again. "And I suppose you all know that now. It's almost ready to be published, perhaps on the shelves by Christmas."

Stranger: "That's great!" Lestrade smiled. "I'll make sure to buy a copy the day it comes out. And I'm sure Sherlock and Mycroft will do the same, right?"

You: "I certainly will," Sherlock murmured, grinning at John. "And I would like for you to sign it, John." John grinned back, a sly cant to his eyes. "And what would you pay me, to sign it love?" he asked, chuckling.

Stranger: "I'm sure you can think of something," Sherlock smirked back, leaning forward to catch John's lips in a slow, heated kiss. He ignored the groan from his brother as he lifted his hand to place it at the base of John's skull.

You: "Oi, not now you two," Lestrade grumbled, putting a hand on Sherlock's shoulder and shaking it. "We're almost there. You'll have plenty of time for that when you get back to your flat." When the cab pulled to a stop, Mycroft paid the driver while pointedly ignoring Sherlock and John then stepped out.

Stranger: Sherlock broke the kiss to glare at Lestrade and John leane up to kiss him cheek. "Come on," he muttered into Sherlock's ear before taking his hand and stepping out of the cab, the detective following just behind him.

You: Lestrade shook his head and shrugged apologetically at the driver before getting out and jogging to catch up to Mycroft. They entered the diner together, getting a booth towards the back as it was the only table available.

Stranger: They all sat next to their respective partners and took a few silent minutes to look over the menu. "What looks good to you, love?" Lestrade asked once he decided what he wanted and notice Mycroft still looking at the menu, a look of either concentration or slight appall etched into his features.

You: "I... I'm not sure," Mycroft replied hesitantly, eyes still locked on the menu. "I understand what the ingredients are but do they really make something tasty? What will you be getting?" Lestrade tipped Mycroft's menu down to force him to meet his eyes and smiled softly. "I'm getting a hamburger and fries. Something simple. Does that sound good to you or are you in the mood for something else?"

Stranger: Mycroft sighed, thinking for a moment. "Is it good?" he asked slowly, watching as Greg laughed and a frown slipped over Mycroft's lips.

You: "I like it," Lestrade replied simply. "But this diner has a lot of different types of food. They have a grilled chicken sandwich that's pretty good too. You can order something that sounds good to you or something that sounds interesting." He listened for a moment to the quiet murmur between John and Sherlock, figuring that they both had eaten somewhere like this before. They were having no problems and it actually sounded like they were making plans for later, at which point, Lestrade stopped listening.

Stranger: "This chicken and turkey grilled sandwich sounds... Interesting," Mycroft muttered, reading the description. "Even has avocado spread in it. Is this good?"

You: "I've had it without avocado," Lestrade replied, smiling at Mycroft's tone. "It was good, good enough I'd order it again sometime." Before he could say anything more, a waitress with the nametag Eleanor walked up to them asking, "What'll it be, gents?"

Stranger: Mycroft ended up ordering the grilled Turkey and Chicken sandwich with avocado while Greg ordered his hamburger. John and Sherlock both got nachos and everyone got a nice cup of tea with their order.

You: "Be back in a jif, dears," Eleanor said, bustling away with their menus. Silence reigned at the table while all four men looked at each other. "So," John started at the same time Lestrade said, "Well." They laughed and John gestured for Lestrade to speak first. "Well, so far so good, I guess," Lestrade laughed. "We've been in each other's company now for a few hours and there's been hardly any sniping."

Stranger: "Agreed," Mycroft nodded, turning to Sherlock. "Things have been easier between us, haven't they brother? I'm glad we can all sit at one table and not be at each other's throats."

You: "It is rather nice not having you badger me to help on cases," Sherlock replied, giving Mycroft an arch look. "Honestly, when are you going to learn that I am one of the people you won't be able to control?" Mycroft sat forward, a snarky remark on the tip of his tongue when the person in the booth behind them turned at Sherlock's words and exclaimed, "Oh my god! You're Sherlock Holmes!"

Stranger: "Uh... Who?" Sherlock asked smoothly. He knew his hair was probably too grown out to hide the black anymore but he couldn't let this person know the truth. He felt John squeeze his hand under the table and gave his a gentle squeeze back. He wouldn't be recognized, not if he could help it.

You: "Sherlock Holmes, the detective bloke," the man continued, swinging his legs out from the booth to turn completely around. "I remember you. You helped me years ago find my daughter."

Stranger: Mycroft turned to look at the man. "You've worked with Sherlock Holmes?" He waited as the man nodded. "And you... Still believe in him?"

You: "Course I do," the man scoffed, glaring at Mycroft. "I got my daughter back, didn't I? And the man who'd taken her is in jail, isn't he? I didn't believe all that rubbish in the papers then and I still don't now."

Stranger: "Would you mind speaking in a more private place? I'd like you to come to my office tomorrow afternoon if you could," Mycroft said, handing the man a card from his pocket. "And don't tell anyone about seeing Sherlock Holmes, okay? He kind of needs to... Stay out of sight for a bit."

You: The man took the card and stared at it, wondering who exactly Mycroft Holmes was and if he was related to Sherlock. "This would have something to do with the stories in the papers lately, wouldn't it?" he asked cannily, winking at Sherlock. "Man like you, I didn't think you'd just jump. Had to be something more. Government was involved wasn't it?"

Stranger: "I was not, nor were any of my people," Mycroft said, earning a confused glare from the man. "Will you come in and talk to me? We could use your help."

You: The man twiddled the card between his fingers, alternating looks between Mycroft and the name on the card. "What would be involved?" he asked rather than answering. "It's not illegal or anything, right?"

Stranger: "For what we'll be talking about, no," Mycroft said shaking his head. “I hold a... Minor position in the British Government. You can trust me."

You: "Right," the man said slowly, tucking the card into his pocket. "Well, Mr. and Mr. Holmes, my name's Michael Miller. If this will help Sherlock Holmes, then I will see you tomorrow. Where would you like to meet?"

Stranger: "The address is on the card," Mycroft said, nodding a single, swift nod. "Just show it to the man at the front desk and he'll bring you straight to my office."

You: "All right," Michael replied, smiling at Sherlock. "Thank you again. I don't know what I would have done if I had lost my daughter."

Stranger: Sherlock resisted the strong urge to roll his eyes and instead nodded. "You're welcome," he said, giving a very small smile.

You: Michael turned back around, dropping a few bills on his table for the check and leaving with his friend. John waited until he had left before turning to Sherlock and asking, "I don't remember his case. When did you find his daughter?"

Stranger: "About two months after you moved in," Sherlock said, picking up his drink and sipping from it before continuing. "He emailed me, asking for my help. It was that week the clinic was really busy for you and all you did was sleep and work. I guess you didn't realize I wasn't really home that week."

You: John thought back, remembering that particularly hellish week. "Yeah, I'm surprised I ended up at the flat each night I was so exhausted," John replied, smiling a bit. "I'm glad you were able to solve the case and get his daughter back."

Stranger: "Yeah, it was one of the slower cases but it, apparently, all works out," Sherlock shrugged, closing his eyes for a moment.

You: Eleanor came back with their food before John could reply and they were silent while she placed plates in front of each man. John, Sherlock, and Lestrade looked happily at their food while Mycroft surveyed it dubiously. "Anything else you need, dears?" Eleanor asked.

Stranger: "Ketchup would be good, thank you," John smiled up at her and watched as she nodded and walked away with a smile. She came back a moment layer, placing the small red glass bottle on the table. She turned to leave after making sure they didn't need anything else, leaving the boys alone once again.

You: "Try it, love," Lestrade murmured, nudging Mycroft's elbow with his own. "I think you'll like it." He picked up his own burger and took a bite then poured ketchup on his plate for the fries, waiting for Mycroft to try his own food.

Stranger: Mycroft picked up one of the fries and held it up. He looked it over for a few seconds, then watched Greg pick one up off his own plate, dip it in ketchup, and eat it. "Is it better with ketchup?"

You: "I like them with and without ketchup," Lestrade replied after finishing his fry. "Which I know is not very helpful. Try it without and then you can try it with, if you like. They're really good. Kind of like solid hash browns." Sherlock snorted without meeting Mycroft's eyes, the amusement plain on his face.

Stranger: Mycroft scowled at his brother before turning back to Greg, looking down at the fry, and slowly taking a bite. He took a few minutes to chew and let the taste spread over his tongue. "Not... Bad," he said at length, dipping a new fry into the ketchup. "It's not caviar, but it's not... Bad."

You: "That's good," Lestrade replied, smiling warmly at Mycroft again. "You know, I only really like caviar on sushi. I think it's too salty all by itself." Miniature crisis averted, the four continued to eat, John and Lestrade trading stories from their respective jobs. And if some of them got a little... bloody, well it's a good thing all concerned were used to it.

Stranger: The rest of the dinner went by smoothly and soon, the four of them were on their way back to Mycroft and Greg's flat. They sat down on the couch and in the chairs, a comfortable silence falling between them.

"So, we managed to make it through a meal without killing each other, dear brother," Sherlock said, not bothering to hide the sarcasm in his voice. But John could hear a hint of fondness underneath the words. "What do we do now?"

Stranger: "The night is still young, little brother," Mycroft mocked, a smirk touching his lips. "Well, we don't have any work until tomorrow. What do you wish to do, Greg? John?"

You: "Well," John said slowly, slanting a glance at Sherlock. "I don't know about you two, but Sherlock and I had plans before we were... interrupted by you, Mycroft. I'd like to get back to them." John smirked at Sherlock as the detective's eyes snapped to his, knowing what the other man was thinking.

Stranger: "Well, if they're planning what I'm not planning, I think it's best if they had home, don't you, Mycroft dear?" Greg asked, smiling at Mycroft and running one hand low around his waist.

You: Mycroft cleared his throat, trying to look solemn but the look was spoiled by the little smirk pulling at the corners of his mouth. "I think that's probably for the best, yes," Mycroft finally said, leaning into Greg. "There's nothing more we can do right now. I shall let you know when I need you for more paperwork, Sherlock."

Stranger: "Fine," Sherlock said, not really paying attention to his brother as he stood and slipped on his coat, John reaching for his hand to drag him out. "Bye Greg. Mycroft," John smirked before closing the door behind them and rushing Sherlock down the stairs to the street, hailing a cab, a goofy smile on his face the whole time.

You: "All right," Lestrade said, pulling Mycroft over to the couch and pushing him to sit down. "That went very well. Did you enjoy the diner and trying something new?"

Stranger: "It was interesting," Mycroft said, smiling as Greg stood over him. "It was nice being able to all eat together."

You: Leaning over, since he didn't quite want to end on the couch tonight, Lestrade kissed Mycroft slowly. "It's good to see them both happy again. Sherlock always seems better with John around. But why don't we let them go for tonight. What are you wanting to do?"

Stranger: "You said you had a plan?" Mycroft smirked into the kiss, nipping at the corners of Greg's mouth. "Why don't you tell me a little about that?"

You: "Well, the plan involves me, you, the bed, and possibly the handcuffs again," Lestrade replied, smoothing a hand up Mycroft's arm and over his shoulder. "Though, if you want to know more, you'd have to convince me to tell you."

Stranger: "And how can I do that, love?" Mycroft asked, biting his lip at the mention of the handcuffs again.

You: "Get creative, love," Lestrade replied, standing up and shrugging indifferently though he was smirking. "I am... very susceptible to bribery, you know."

Stranger: "Bribery like-" he cut off with a smile. He wanted to hear Greg say it, wanted to hear the man ask for it. "Do tell."

You: "Bribery like offering me something I'll like in exchange for information," Lestrade laughed, holding out a hand to pull Mycroft up from the couch. "You know, like good food or movie nights or things of a sexual nature. Surely you've used bribery in the past, love."

Stranger: "Of course," Mycroft said, taking Greg's hand and standing. "But not of this nature, I assure you."

You: Lestrade laughed as they headed towards the bedroom. Maybe it made him sound old, but he rather enjoyed using the bed rather than couches or things like that. "I can just picture you trying to seduce someone out of starting a war," he joked, stopping at the top of the stairs to push Mycroft against the wall and kiss him. "Or perhaps into starting one."

Stranger: "Starting," Mycroft murmured into Greg's lips as the DI pressed his body against his and pushed him against the wall. He let one of his hands slither up to tangle in Greg's hair, pulling at it gently.

You: Lestrade laughed again, letting his head tilt back as Mycroft pulled on his hair. "Definitely can see that," he murmured. "So, this is an interesting start to the bribery. What other favors were you thinking of?"

Stranger: "Can I tie you up this time?" Mycroft asked, grinning slowly. "Or can we both be tied up? I think that could add an... Interesting element."

You: "Getting tied up sounds interesting," Lestrade nodded, leaning down to kiss Mycroft quickly. "I've never actually been handcuffed, you know. And I think that's pretty sufficient bribery for you to know my plans. They involved getting you into bed and having you do whatever you wanted. Sound like a good one?"

Stranger: "Amazing," Mycroft smiled, kissing Greg on the lips again. "Are your handcuffs still downstairs or did you place them back in your car? I may use them on you tonight."

You: "They're still in the bedroom," Lestrade replied, smiling with anticipation. "I didn't work today, surprisingly, so I didn't need them. After you, love." Lestrade let himself be led into the bedroom, his eyes sweeping up and down Mycroft's body as they went.

Stranger: Mycroft gently pushed Greg onto the bed before going over to the desk on the far side of the room for the handcuffs. He crawled up next to Greg and leaned down to kiss him. "Hands through the headboard, love," he whispered between kisses.

You: Lestrade complied, stretching up to thread his hands through the slats. The metal was cold around his wrists but Mycroft was careful to keep them loose enough so they didn't cut off his circulation. Lestrade tugged a few times on the cuffs, a slow, satisfied smile stretching his lips. "Well, you seem to have me where you want me," he drawled, looking up at Mycroft. "What now?"

Stranger: "Should've taken your shirt off first," Mycroft growled, unbuttoning the top slowly and letting it cascade around Greg's torso. He slide his hands under the fabric and pressed gently as Greg's chest. "What do you want me to do, love? Anything you've been dying to try before I continue?"

You: Lestrade shook his head before replying, "I think I'll give you your words back. You have me tied up so you're the one in charge." He arched a little bit, letting the muscles in his chest and abdomen tense and relax as Lestrade settled back down to the bed. Watching Mycroft's eyes follow his movement, Lestrade had to laugh.

Stranger: Mycroft tightened his grip on Greg's chest just a bit, dipping down to nip at Greg's lips gently. "Fine then," he growled, smiling a predatory grin. He kissed him roughly for another few minutes, nipping at the corners.

You: Lestrade groaned and pulled at the cuffs again, trying to get his arms around Mycroft. He sighed and rolled his eyes but let his arms drop back down onto the bed. "Now I see what you mean," he murmured before leaning up to kiss Mycroft again.

Stranger: "Frustrating?" Mycroft asked with a small smile, already knowing all too well that it was. "Well, you look adorable all spread out in front of me, though."

You: "So what are you going to do? Sit here and talk to me until we both fall asleep?" Lestrade challenged, smirking up at Mycroft.

Stranger: "No," Mycroft said, shaking his head. "But I do have a few... Surprises for you." Mycroft smirked wickedly as he sat up on the bed, looking down at Greg. "I had some time one day and did some... Shopping."

You: Lestrade merely arched one eyebrow, still staring up at Mycroft. He waited patiently, though a hundred possibilities of what Mycroft could have bought ran through his mind. They'd talked about a few things but nothing specific. What could he possibly have gotten?

Stranger: "Want me to get them?" Mycroft smiled, running a hand down Greg's stomach to his abdomen, stopping just short of his pants.

You: Lestrade's hips arched up, trying to move Mycroft's hand down a bit. He groaned when the hand was pulled away and nodded. "Yeah," Lestrade murmured, voice already gravelly with want. "I want to see what you got."

Stranger: Mycroft chuckled and pecked Greg on the cheek, moving away before he could turn to capture his lips. He stood from the bed and ducked down to dig under the bed. Pulling out a small box, he placed it on the bed next to Greg. The box was black and unmarked besides a single white stripe that ran down the middle. He sat down next to Greg once again and smiled, not touching the box.

You: Lestrade held out for as long as he could, eyes moving from the box to Mycroft's face and back again. Finally, curiosity won out. "All right," he sighed. "What's in the box?"

Stranger: "Why don't we play a little game?" Mycroft smiled, placing his hand on the lid of the box. "Three guesses. Get one right, I'll pull it out and that's what we'll use first."

You: "Anything could be in there," Lestrade pointed out, staring down at the simple black box again. "What happens if I don't guess something in there in three guesses?"

Stranger: "Then I'll choose one that I think will be the most.... Interesting," he held out the word as a smile overtook his lips. "Deal?"

You: "Deal," Lestrade replied, smiling up at Mycroft before staring hard at the box. He had no idea what could be in there but a few things they'd talked about crossed his mind. "All right, for my first guess... a cock ring?"

Stranger: "No, but you're in the right area," Mycroft chuckled. "Though I should get one of those..."

You: Lestrade nodded, a warm smile on his face. "Second guess, then," he murmured, lips pursing slightly as he thought. "In the right area... is it a plug?"

Stranger: "Ohh, someone's good at this game," Mycroft smiled, opening the box lid so Greg couldn't see inside. "Now, anything special about this plug, love? Think about it."

You: "That wasn't part of the game," Lestrade huffed, turned on by the thought of the toy. He was tired of waiting. When he was met by nothing but silence, Lestrade sighed again and pulled at the cuffs in frustration. "Is it a vibrating one?"

Stranger: "Guess we'll find out," Mycroft smirked, reaching over and undoing Greg's trousers. He pulled them down slowly over his hips along with his pants. "Do you want this?"

You: "Yes," Lestrade replied, lifting his hips up off the bed to help. He settled back down once the cloth was down around his thighs and waited until Mycroft slid them the rest of the way off. "Though isn't the point of this that you decide what you do and when?"

Stranger: "Yes," Mycroft smiled, not giving any warning before he slowly pushed the plug into Greg. It was a tight squeeze, seeing how unprepared Greg was, but it was totally worth it when Greg whimpered out and threw his head back.

You: "Oh god," Lestrade hissed, his eyes squeezing closed as the toy penetrated him. He stayed still, the pressure not quite to the point where it was overly painful. As his muscles adjusted, Lestrade realized that the toy was fairly long and just brushing his prostate. "That feels good now," he murmured, trying to get the toy in deeper.

Stranger: "As far as it goes, love," Mycroft smiled, brushing a strand of hair out of Greg's face. "Describe to me, how does it feel?"

You: "Full," Lestrade replied after a moment's thought. "It's fairly thick for a plug. And it's not quite long enough, just long enough to tease." He clenched his muscles around it, feeling it move slightly as he moved. A low moan worked its way out of Lestrade's throat and he continued to work his hips.

Stranger: Mycroft sat back and smiled as he watched Greg struggle and shift to try to ease the toy in farther. He reached down into the box to get the controls. "Tease how?" He smiled, crossing his legs and just watching Greg.

You: Lestrade stopped moving and opened his eyes when he heard Mycroft moving something. He saw what looked like a remote control in the other man's hands and smiled. "So it does vibrate," Lestrade murmured silkily. "And it's just brushing up against my prostate, that's what I mean by teasing. I feel it but it's too light to be enough." He arched an eyebrow at Mycroft again, pointedly looking down at the control in his hands.

Stranger: "Emmmmm, perfect," Mycroft purred, standing from the bed. "Let me go just put some batteries in this. I'll be back." Mycroft bent over and pecked Greg lightly on the lips, smiling devilishly as he left.

You: Lestrade opened his mouth to protest but Mycroft was already out the door. He felt very vulnerable tied up like this by himself, especially since Mycroft had the key in his pocket and completely out of Lestrade's reach. A deep breath caused the toy to shift and he moaned, clenching and unclenching his muscles around it again.

Stranger: Mycroft took his time going down and getting the batteries. He popped the back open and slipped the batteries in, smiling when he heard Greg yelp upstairs. "Got them, love!" he called, chuckling.

You: Lestrade bit down on his lip, barely hearing Mycroft calling from downstairs. The sensations from the toy were intense and he was barely keeping the screams in. From the way things had been going so far, Lestrade had the feeling Mycroft was going to take his time and he wanted to save every breath he could.

Stranger: Mycroft chuckled darkly and decided he wanted to make tea. "Did you want tea, love?" Mycroft called, hoping to drag this out. "I'm going to make some."

You: "Bloody tease," Lestrade yelled back, the last syllable ending on a moan. He pulled on the cuffs, fingers wrapping around the metal that had warmed to his body temperature. The vibration had increased, causing his hips to pump hard down into the bed. "My... Mycroft," Lestrade moaned, biting at his lips again. "Please."

Stranger: "I'll be up in about ten minutes, love," Mycroft called back, smiling. He turned off the vibrator and smiled again when he heard Greg sigh in relief.

You: Lestrade let himself relax, letting out several deep breaths and catching his breath. He tried to keep himself calm by going over some of his solved cases, counting seconds until Mycroft came back. This was surprisingly arousing as well as frustrating and Lestrade felt a grin stretching his lips.

Stranger: Once he finished filling the kettle with water and he imagined Greg had enough time to relax, Mycroft switched the vibrator back on with full blast, glad it connected way down here. He heard Greg scream above and bit his lip, imagining Greg withering on the bed with the vibrator.

You: Lestrade groaned and writhed on the bed, Mycroft's name leaving his lips on a scream. He pumped his hips hard again, hands tugging at the cuffs and trying to reach down to the throbbing erection that bobbed between his legs. "Mycroft, leave the tea!" Lestrade bellowed. "I need you."

Stranger: "You can't wait ten short minutes, love?" Mycroft called back innocently, turning the stove on to start heating the water. He let the vibrator go a few more second before switching it back off.

You: Lestrade caught his breath again before rolling his eyes and yelling back, "I'd rather not." He rearranged his legs on the bed, stretching them back out and crossing them at the ankles. If Mycroft came back now, hopefully what he would see was Lestrade waiting patiently. Course, if he turned the plug back on, that plan would most likely go out the window.

Stranger: "I'm almost done, don't worry," Mycroft called back, leaning back and waiting for the water to heat up. Once it did and started whistling, Mycroft poured himself tea and started back upstairs, turning the vibrator back on as he passed the first couple steps.

You: Lestrade groaned as the toy started vibrating again but tried to keep his nonchalant pose. It worked somewhat; he managed to keep his hips from moving but that was about it. He heard the footsteps on the stairs and sighed with relief that Mycroft was on his way back.

Stranger: Mycroft stepped into the room, leaning on the doorframe and sipping his tea. "Having fun?" he asked as he raised the mug to his lips again, a smirk playing on the corners of his mouth.

You: "Little bored actually," Lestrade replied, shrugging as best he could. "All alone up here, not much to do." He bit his lip as the shrug shifted all his muscles to hold back the moan that bubbled up out of his throat. "Care to do something about that, love?"

Stranger: Mycroft frowned and set his mug down on the dresser next to the door. "You know, love," he muttered, sitting on the edge of the bed. "I do have another setting for this little plug of yours. A higher one."

You: "Really?" Lestrade asked, interest sparking in his eyes. "You mean these levels haven't been the highest? That could be interesting." He smirked at Mycroft, letting his hips work against the bed as Mycroft watched him.

Stranger: "Should I save it for later or...?" He trailed off and ran one finger down Greg's chest, watching his hips move.

You: "I'd rather you didn't," Lestrade drawled, watching the finger tracing over his skin. "I've been waiting to see what you were going to do and it's been a little disappointing." Lestrade stopped moving then, hoping to tempt Mycroft into doing something more.

Stranger: "Disappointing, huh?" Mycroft growled, going down to nip at Greg's neck. He reached in his pocket and cranked up the vibrator, biting down harder and sucking on the skin as he did so.

"Oh god, Mycroft," Lestrade groaned, arching up into Mycroft's body. His head tilted to the side and towards the pillows, letting Mycroft have all the room he wanted at his neck. This setting sent sparks of pleasure up and down his body and Lestrade couldn't help shuddering from the sensations. "That's intense."

Stranger: Mycroft hummed quietly and ran one finger up the length of Greg's erection. "How does it feel? Details, love," he purred, nipping at Greg's neck gently, just skimming his teeth over the skin.

You: Lestrade groaned, mouth falling open as he panted. "It's... I feel it... everywhere," he whimpered, straining to get closer to Mycroft. "The vibration moves my muscles which in turn moves the plug and I feel so full with it."

Stranger: "Is it still barely touching your prostate?" Mycroft hummed quietly, going up to lap at Greg's ear playfully.

You: Lestrade nodded, turning his head towards Mycroft and licking up the side of his neck. "No matter how much I move," he whispered into Mycroft's ear. "I can't get it to go any closer. Care to help me with that, love?"

Stranger: "What do you want me to do?" Mycroft breathed back, bitting down and tugging on Greg's ear. "Push it in farther or... Use something else?"

You: "I'll leave that up to you," Lestrade replied, biting back a moan. He kissed Mycroft's neck and let his head drop down to the pillow, smiling warmly up at him. "I'm the one handcuffed here, remember?"

Stranger: Mycroft smiled down at Greg and hooked two of his fingers around the base of the plug, securing them under the ledge. "This might hurt though," he warned, pushing the plug in farther as his two fingers dipped in with it.

You: Lestrade screamed and his hips arched up, pain and pleasure surging through his body. He pulled hard at the cuffs, fingers tightening on the metal. "Fuck, should use lube," Lestrade whimpered as he managed to take a few shallow breaths. "That's really tight."

Stranger: "Noted for next time," Mycroft growled, pushing in just a bit farther and pausing to let the vibrator work against Greg's prostate. After a minute, he pulled it almost all the way back out before shoving it, slowly, back in.

You: "That's... that's... oh god," Lestrade groaned, moving with Mycroft's fingers. It was enough stimulation now and he could see a drop of pre-come forming at the head of his erection. He'd adjusted to the extra stretch and now all he felt was pleasure.

Stranger: Mycroft added a third finger just to add to the pleasure for Greg. "You like?" He questioned before he leaning down and kissing Greg gently, teasing his lips and pulling back before Greg could react to the kiss.

You: Lestrade nodded, speech momentarily unavailable to him. Loud pants and whimpers fell from his lips as he felt his orgasm building fast in his belly. "My... don't stop," Lestrade murmured. "So... good."

Stranger: Mycroft kept his fingers and the device as far in as it would go. He gently squeezed the base of Greg's erection and watched as the man withered beneath him. "Were you close, love?"

You: "Yes," Lestrade replied, taking a few deep breaths as his impending orgasm faded a bit. "Why'd you stop me? Have other plans?"

Stranger: "I want to have you hold out as long as you can," Mycroft growled. "I want to keep fucking you like this."

You: After Mycroft spoke the last word, Lestrade felt his fingers pushing the plug hard inside him. It pressed against his prostate before withdrawing and repeating the motion. Strangled screams left his throat as Lestrade pumped his hips against Mycroft's hand, the man's other hand still wrapped around the base of his erection and keeping his orgasm at bay.

Stranger: Mycroft leaned forward and pressed his lips lightly to Greg's. "Tell me, love," he whispered into Greg's ear. "How much is this driving you insane?"

You: "You have no idea," Lestrade panted, turning his head to kiss Mycroft's cheek. "After making me wait and now this? If my hands were free, I'd be making you go faster."

Stranger: "But they aren't," Mycroft smiled. "So maybe I should... Go slower?" He pulled the plug out most of the way and paused before slowly pushing it back in.

You: Rocking his hips, Lestrade managed to wrap one leg around Mycroft pulling him a little closer. He tucked his head into Mycroft's neck and bit lightly at the crook of his neck, laving his tongue over the mark. "You can do what you want," he breathed into the skin. "I'm rather enjoying it."

Stranger: "I can tell," Mycroft chuckled, turning his head and catching Greg's lips. "You feel so good, love."

You: Opening his mouth wide, Lestrade kissed Mycroft hard. He thrust his tongue deep into Mycroft's mouth, pressing insistently at the other man's tongue. He wondered briefly how long Mycroft would let him control the kiss before Lestrade let all thoughts drain out of his mind.

Stranger: Mycroft pushed the plug in as far as he could and let it sit there while he and Greg kissed roughly. He pulled it back out and slammed it back in as he leaned back to take a breath and adjust the angle, allowing him to press harder into the kiss and make it deeper.

You: Lestrade bucked up from the bed as Mycroft slammed the plug back into him, whimpering into Mycroft's mouth. He kissed Mycroft eagerly, tongue flickering around his mouth. Finally, Lestrade pulled back for a breath, pressing a gentler kiss to Mycroft's cheek. "Love... you," he murmured, squirming as Mycroft turned up the level of vibration. "Love you so much."

Stranger: "I love you so much too, love," Mycroft whispered back, holding the plug firmly in place with his infers as he went down to suck his neck.

You: Lestrade tipped his head back and forced his muscles to relax as much as possible. He was really enjoying Mycroft take control; there was something freeing in being used like this. He gasped as Mycroft bit harder, groaning. "More, Mycroft, please," Lestrade begged, voice hoarse from the noises he'd been making so far.

Stranger: "Biting or vibrations?" Mycroft growled back before biting down on Greg's neck again. He sucked on the skin gently at first, slowly building in force to drive Greg crazy, like he knew it would.

You: "Biting," Lestrade answered, gasping as Mycroft raised a bruise on his skin. "Just don't mark me on the skin above where my collar would sit. I don't need my division speculating."

Stranger: "Too late for that, love," Mycroft hissed, running a finger over the fresh bruise before dipping lower and starting on a new spot.

You: Lestrade rolled his eyes as he thought of the different comments people were likely to say next time he went into work. There was a sense of brotherhood between all his detectives, one that allowed everyone to rib on the others. But Mycroft's teeth quickly made him drop that line of thought and concentrate solely on what his lover was doing.

Stranger: Mycroft angled the plug a little more so the intense vibrations were pressed farther into Greg's prostate. "I'm sure everyone's already poked at you though for being with me," Mycroft whispered, kissing the bruise he just finished and moving again to start another one. "What's one more bit of evidence?"

You: Lestrade nodded, distracted by the press of the plug. He wasn't really hearing what Mycroft was saying but it didn't really matter. He pumped his hips, letting the plug slide in and out slightly as he moved.

Stranger: "You're so beautiful when you move like this," Mycroft whispered, his voice low and deep in Greg's ear. "Are you enjoying this? Enjoying the feeling of the plug?"

You: "Yes," Lestrade said quietly, turning his head to nuzzle into Mycroft's neck. "But it's driving me crazy. Please, Mycroft, let me come? Please? I need to."

Stranger: "Fine," Mycroft nodded, kissing Greg gently and releasing the base of his erection. "Come for me, Greg, I want to watch you." He started stroking in a steady rhythm as he kissed Greg's neck slowly.

You: The orgasm that he'd been sitting on the cusp of overwhelmed Lestrade quickly. He screamed as slick fluid covered both of them. It seemed to go on for hours, the plug pushing him ever higher as it continued to vibrate and Mycroft kissed him.

Stranger: Mycroft kissed and nipped Greg's neck as he orgasmed, his own building up just from the noises his lover was admitting. "Getting there... Love...." he muttered into Greg's ear, licking the shell.

You: "What do you want me to do?" Lestrade asked, panting slightly as he came down. He smiled at Mycroft, pressing a gentle kiss to the side of his neck. "Obviously my hands aren't available but I'm sure we can figure something out?" He chuckled darkly, licking over the kiss.

Stranger: "B-bite me or something," Mycroft muttered, the plug and his fingers still buried deep in Greg and pressing against his prostate. "Please, love."

You: "Gladly," Lestrade murmured. He licked over Mycroft's neck again then bit gently just over his pulse. He didn't want to hurt Mycroft so sucked more than used his teeth. Once he was sure a bruise was raised under his lips, Lestrade moved a little to the side and bit Mycroft again.

Stranger: Mycroft groaned and tilted his head to the side for Greg to have more room. "Yes," he breathed, his own hand snaking around his erection. "Just like that, love. Yes." he began to pump slowly, rubbing the head along Greg's thigh for extra friction and just the touch of Greg on that sensitive area.

You: Lestrade hummed quietly and tilted his head so he could look down Mycroft's body. At this angle, all he could see what Mycroft's arm moving with his hips. But that was enough, memories supplying the rest of what Mycroft looked like. Lestrade licked over the second bruise then moved to the other side of Mycroft's neck. He bit down harder, digging into the muscle running from Mycroft's jaw down to his collarbone.

Stranger: Mycroft felt his orgasm building quickly and leaned into Greg's mouth. "Almost... Love, almost..." He muttered, his eyes falling closed.

You: "It's your turn," Lestrade whispered into Mycroft's skin. "I want to feel you come." He licked over the third bite, alternating swipes with his tongue with gentle sucking. Again, Lestrade moved a little bit, this time towards the center of Mycroft's neck, and bit again.

Stranger: Mycroft moaned loudly before his orgasm burst from him, a muffled cry coming from his mouth into Greg's shoulder. "Greg! God, Greg!" he chanted, his orgasm starting to calm slightly, his muscles going weak.

You: "That's it, love," Lestrade encouraged him, nuzzling into the crook of his neck in lieu of being able to wrap his arms around Mycroft. He continued to whisper and kiss Mycroft's neck, feeling each shudder of the other man against him.

Stranger: When Mycroft finished, he rolled off of Greg and settled down next to the man's side, wrapping his arms around his lover's waist. "That was fun," he muttered, placing a lazy kiss to Greg's cheek, his eyes half closed and a smile on his lips.

You: "It was," Lestrade agreed, nodding. "Mind unlocking me? I think we should clean up a little bit." He turned his head and gave Mycroft a quick kiss, then gestured at the key with his chin.

Stranger: "Where is it again?" Mycroft muttered, his mind still coming down from the high the orgasm gave him.

You: "Don't tell me you lost it," Lestrade groaned, lifting his head to look over at the nightstand. "Didn't you put it over on the table? I really, really don't want to have to call anyone for this."

Stranger: "You told me you had it," Mycroft said, getting up to look at the bedside table. He opened the drawer and shifted through the items in there with no such luck. "It's not here."

You: "You sure?" Lestrade asked, a hint of fear in his voice. He pulled at the cuffs but knew there was really no point. They were his official cuffs and fairly solid. "Wait, maybe a pocket?" He looked pointedly down at himself and back up at Mycroft with a sardonic grin. "I obviously don't have it."

Stranger: Mycroft went over to his pants and picked them off the ground. He searched each pocket and shook his head. "If I had it, it's not here not. Do you remember me having it in there for sure? 'cause if so, it might of just fallen out."

You: "I think you had it when you went downstairs to make tea," Lestrade said, sighing and rolling his eyes. "Maybe it fell out of your pocket?"

Stranger: "Let me go check, love," Mycroft muttered, leaning over to peck Greg on the lips. "Let me get the plug out of you first. Lift your hips."

You: Lestrade did so, groaning slightly as it slid out. The lack of vibration now felt heavenly and he let out a heartfelt sigh. "I want to do that to you sometime," he murmured, grinning at Mycroft. "I think you'll enjoy it. Now go find that key."

Stranger: "Whatever you want," Mycroft whispered, pressing another kiss to Greg's lips. "Don't worry, it has to be in this flat somewhere, right? And if we can't find it, I'll personally wear that plug on full blast all the way to your office to get the other key. You have another key... Right?"

You: "In my desk," Lestrade nodded, the fear easing a little bit. And the idea of Mycroft dealing with cabs or driving and walking into New Scotland Yard with the plug was an interesting one. Though, a jealous side of Lestrade reared its head snarling, unwilling to let anyone else see Mycroft like that. "But I'd rather you found the key."

Stranger: "Me too," Mycroft muttered, starting towards the door. "I don't like the idea of leaving you alone handcuffed to the bed. I'm going to go look for it, give me a few minutes."

You: Lestrade spent the time anxiously reviewing everything he could remember of where the key was over the past several minutes. While he could hear movement downstairs, he came to the conclusion that the last time he saw it was before Mycroft went downstairs to make tea. If he didn't know better, it almost seemed like Mycroft had been pick-pocketed but there was no one else in the house. "Find it?" he called after a few minutes.

Stranger: "Not yet," Mycroft called back, starting into the kitchen. He went around where he was making tea, checking under the pot and around the stove. It couldn't have fallen out of his pocket and to the floor, could it have? Could he have kicked it under the stove or fridge?

You: "Did you go anywhere else other than the kitchen?" Lestrade asked, pulling ineffectually at the cuffs. When he was out of them, he was seriously considering having Sherlock teach him how to pick them. Though the real reason why he wanted to know was something Sherlock didn't need to know.

Stranger: "No, only the kitchen and up the stairs," Mycroft called back, chewing the inside of his cheek. "I don't know where it could have fallen out."

You: "Well, come on back up here," Lestrade grumbled, trying to lift his head to look around the floor. He was only able to see a small portion and no key. "Maybe it fell out up here or on the bed."

Stranger: Mycroft came back up the stairs and grabbed his robe, pulling it around him. He sat down on the bed and looked at Greg. "I'm sorry, love," Mycroft muttered, looking around on the bed.

You: "It's all right, Mycroft," Lestrade soothed him, smiling. "Once I'm out of these cuffs, it'll be a funny story. But right now, this is annoying. Looks like you'll have to get the key from my office."

Stranger: "Do you know exactly where it is?" Mycroft sighed, his eyes falling on the plug. "I mean, if I have to wear that thing, I want to get in and out before anyone notices the ... Problem I'll be having."

You: "Top drawer of my desk," Lestrade replied, staring down at the plug as well. "But you can... forgo wearing that. I want to see your face when its inside you and keep that sight for myself."

Stranger: "If you're sure," Mycroft muttered, leaning down to peck Greg on the lips. "For next time, let's make another copy of the key and put it somewhere on a hook or something if we're going to keep using the handcuffs. So we know just where it is."

You: "Good plan," Lestrade said, leaning up to kiss Mycroft harder. "Hurry and come back."

Stranger: "I will," Mycroft said, getting up to start getting dressed. "Do you need anything before I go? Do you want the sheets over you?"

You: "Maybe if you could wipe down my legs and stomach?" Lestrade suggested, staring down at the mess both of them had made on his skin. "And then, yes, a sheet please."

Stranger: "Of course," Mycroft said, pulling on his shirt and heading to the bathroom to get a damp cloth. He brought it back to Greg and started to gently wipe down his legs.

You: Lestrade hummed in satisfaction as the cloth ran gently over his skin. "That feels good," he murmured, moving his legs so that Mycroft could reach everywhere. The warmth against his skin was rather sensuous and Lestrade closed his eyes to better appreciate the feeling.

Stranger: Mycroft moved the rag slowly, smiling at Greg. "I'm glad," he said. "Least I can do for getting you into this." He continued a gentle rubbing motion up to his lover's stomach, taking his time.

You: Lestrade opened his eyes again to watch Mycroft, smiling at the concentration on the other man's face. Finally, his skin was clean. "When you get to New Scotland Yard, take the back entrance," Lestrade told Mycroft. "You won't get stopped on your way in."

Stranger: "Okay, that sounds easier," Mycroft nodded, standing to place the towel in the bathroom. "Anything I need to know about getting in other than that?"

You: "No, my office isn't locked and neither is my desk," Lestrade said, shifting his legs to a more comfortable position. Now that the cloth wasn't actually on his skin, the dampness was a bit chilly. "Hurry back, love. This is all a bit embarrassing and my wrists are starting to hurt."

Stranger: "All right, love," Mycroft said, pecking Greg quickly on the lips. "I'm sorry again. I'll be back soon." Without waiting for an answer, Mycroft hurried from the room and out the front door, locking it behind him.

You: Lestrade tried to relax in the bed, impatiently waiting for Mycroft to come back. He knew the building wasn't really that far away but it seemed to be taking forever. He tried to distract himself with current cases but that could only keep him occupied for so long. "Come on, Mycroft," Lestrade grumbled to himself, pulling at the cuffs and trying to move them.

Stranger: Mycroft quickly got in his car and started towards New Scotland Yard. The traffic was mostly clear except for an accident about half way there that sent him around the block. But other than that the ride only took five minutes over what it should have. He parked quickly and made his way up the back entrance, quickly taking the stairs to Greg's office. He pulled the top drawer open, shifting some papers around until he found a small envelope with the key inside. He pocketed the key and made his way back to his car. By the time he got home, twenty minutes had passed and he found Greg pulling impatiently at the cuffs, his wrists red. "You'd make a horrible captive," Mycroft commented, coming into the room and pulling out the envelope, leaning over to kiss Greg gently.

You: "I was hoping maybe I could get them looser," Lestrade replied sourly though he smiled into their kiss. "It didn't work. I can definitely attest to the fact that handcuffs work. Can you unlock them?"

Stranger: "Of course, hold still," Mycroft said, leaning over Greg and unlocking the handcuffs one by one. Once Greg was free, he placed the cuffs and the key on the side table and pulled Greg into a hug as the man sat up. "Let me see your wrists, love."

You: Lestrade held out his wrists, wincing as they burned when Mycroft touched the red bands. "I don't think I broke the skin," Lestrade said, staring at the wounds.

Stranger: "It doesn't look like you did, but still, let's put some ice on them to sooth the skin," Mycroft muttered, kissing Greg's cheek before gently pushing the man to stand up. He led him to the kitchen and pulled out a chair for Greg to sit in.

You: Lestrade watched as Mycroft packed some ice in a washcloth, hissing again when the cloth was placed on his wrists. The cold felt really good and he relaxed slowly, the pain numbing. "Right, next time we use handcuffs, we make sure we know where the key is," Lestrade laughed, giving Mycroft a soft kiss.

Stranger: "Agreed," Mycroft nodded, pulling up a chair next to Greg. "I'm sorry again, love. I know that probably wasn't fun for you."

You: "Like I said before, a funny ending to an entirely satisfactory time," Lestrade replied, shaking his head. He leaned forward and captured Mycroft's lips, teasing at the seam with his tongue. "But I think it's time for something to eat. Why don't we order in and we can watch a movie or something. Unless you have work that you need to do."

Stranger: "I do, but it can wait till morning," Mycroft said, pressing his lips against Greg's again. "What do you want to watch? And eat? I'm good for anything."

You: "How about pizza?" Lestrade suggested, shrugging a shoulder and getting up to put the ice and cloth in the sink. "I can order while you pick something. It's your turn."

Stranger: "All right, but was there anything you've been dying to see?" Mycroft asked, standing and leaning on the door frame. "Anything new?"

You: "Nothing particular," Lestrade replied absently, grabbing the phone they kept in the kitchen. "To be honest, I'll probably fall asleep. That was some of the most intense sex I've ever had." He dialed from the magnet on the fridge, the pizza place long having been their favorite.

Stranger: "I'll try to find something relaxing than to wind down from it all," he laughed before exiting the room. He made his way over to the closet of movies and started scanning through.

You: Lestrade ordered pizza for them, writing down the price for it. He carried the paper out to the living room and settled on the couch, content to watch Mycroft sort through their movie collection. "Find something?" he asked quietly, propping his head on one hand.

Stranger: "How about this one?" Mycroft asked, holding a box up over his shoulder. "It's a comedy."

You: "Sure, put it in," Lestrade said, fighting back a yawn. It was still early evening but he was really exhausted. "Pizza should be here in about half an hour. I put it on my card so we won't have to worry about paying when it gets here."

Stranger: Mycroft nodded and pecked Greg on the lips as he passed. "Good idea, love," he said, going over to the DVD player and setting the telly up.

You: Lestrade watched as Mycroft fiddled with the player until the music accompanying the starting menu sounded from the TV. As Mycroft came over to sit down, Lestrade asked, "Do you think that guy, Michael, we met earlier will actually be able to help you?"

Stranger: "I don't see why he wouldn't be able to," Mycroft said, settling down on the couch with the remote and pulling Greg to lean on him.

You: "Good," Lestrade said, a satisfied smile crossing his face. He didn't bother to fight back the yawn this time, just wrapped an arm around Mycroft's waist and settled against his side. "Sherlock's had enough problems with this whole Moriarty and IOU mess. Something should go easily for once."

Stranger: "I hope so," Mycroft muttered, pressing the highlighted 'play' button and settling farther back into the couch. He set the remote on the side table and wrapped an arm around Greg's shoulders. "I don't know if I'll need you or not to help. I feel I shouldn't, but I'm unsure."

You: "Well, I can definitely attest to Sherlock's character, if that's what you need," Lestrade replied sleepily, focusing on the TV. "He's one of the most intelligent men I've ever met and I doubt I would have solved half the cases I did without him."

Stranger: "We'll see what we need you to do, okay, love?" Mycroft chuckled quietly as the movie started up in the background. "Right now, just relax and enjoy the movie."

You: Lestrade pressed a kiss to Mycroft's temple and fell silent, trying to stay awake for at least a little bit of the movie. Or at least until the pizza got there. He fought sleep for about half an hour until the doorbell rang. "Guess that's the pizza," he murmured, starting to get up to get it.

Stranger: "Do you want me to get it?" Mycroft asked as Greg sat up. He watched as Greg shook his head and stood, moving towards the door.

You: Lestrade answered the door, handing the deliveryman a tip before taking the pizza. He'd decided to order breadsticks this time, the smaller box balanced on top of the pizza box. "Thank you, have a good day," Lestrade told the man before closing the door. He carried the boxes back to the living room, setting them on the coffee table before going to get plates and napkins.

Stranger: "Smells good," Mycroft commented as Greg sat down in his arms again and leaned forward to open the box and plate them both a slice and a breadstick.

You: "Yes, it really does," Lestrade said, taking a slice and a couple breadsticks. He settled back against Mycroft and ate quickly, wanting to have something in his stomach before he fell asleep. The movie continued, making both of them laugh and Lestrade put his empty plate on the coffee table next to the boxes. With a last yawn, he let himself sink into sleep, the movie and Mycroft's breathing a comfort.

Stranger: Mycroft noticed Greg's breathing even out and gently ran his fingers through Greg's hair, smiling gently down at him. He closed his eyes, just listening to the movie on the telly. Slowly, he slipped into sleep, his arms wrapped around his boyfriend.

\------------------------------end Chapter 17----------------------------------------

**Author's Note:**

> This is (as of post date) 33 parts and 12 chapters :) And still going strong! :D 
> 
> also, after this is finished, we plan to have a "John's Novel" (see in later chapters) as a follow up :)
> 
> Please, we want to know if you guys enjoy this! Comments are Love! :D


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